


Break Into Blossom

by FleetingSparks



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Hannibal, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Cannibalism, Creation Myth, Dubious Consent, Implied Mpreg, Knotting, M/M, Murder, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Will, Porn With Plot, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to Knotting, Sexual Harassment, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Violence, but sometimes more plot than porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:17:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3377798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetingSparks/pseuds/FleetingSparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At 26, Will is an up and coming Minnesota State Police homicide detective with a solid reputation as a profiler. When a serial killer who targets young professional Omegas starts dumping bodies around the state, the FBI comes to town and asks Will to work the case. Good thing his new acquaintance Hannibal is there to help him figure everything out. </p><p>Or: How Will lost his job as a cop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

There are limits to truth’s power.

As Will stared out onto the lake, sky and water slipping seamlessly into each other, he turned his truth over and over, trying to make it fit. The world was on fire in the late autumn sunset, the air still holding onto summer’s warmth even as the coming night hinted of winter’s cold. He’d come to the lake to take from it whatever it could give him. An answer. An absolution. An embrace.

Will filled his lungs with the crisp air, breathing life into himself. Feeling as though he could burst, he held his breath until basic instinct pushed it out of him. Who was he to say life had never given him anything?

Moving down the shore, he saw a perfect skipping stone and picked it up. The rock was heavier than it looked, black with veins of grey running through it. Will ran his hands around the edges for a moment, feeling its smoothness. How perfect it was. How very much it was meant to be. He placed the stone in his breast pocket, cold and heavy against his chest. He knelt down and shoved rocks into his pockets until he felt tethered to the earth.

He stepped forward into the biting water with measured and deliberate steps. His eyes stayed open the whole time, watching the inky darkness of night engulf the golden remains of the day; kept them open, even as the water filled his mouth, his nose, his ears, his lungs. Will could feel the life draining away from him. The water didn’t feel so cold anymore. He was closing in around his center, until all that remain was beyond words, beyond images.

The thin boundaries defining Will’s being slipped away as he melted into oblivion.

\----------

The treadmill whirred its endless loop as Will beat down the miles, his feet falling with rhythmic thuds. He can run for days without stopping. One of his unique talents. True, he can’t go very fast. Speed is the domain of alphas, the burst of power in their thick leg muscles. But in the end, Will can outrun an alpha. Any alpha.  


“Detective Graham?”

A rush of pride and excitement still rushed through Will at those words, even though he had been a detective for almost a year. He jumped off the treadmill and turned to look at the messenger. The alpha’s hair was shaped into a forest of needles. Will wondered if he used his hair as a weapon, running into people and impaling them on a million miniature pikes. He wondered what kind of person thinks about weaponized hair.

“Yes, can I help you?”

“Jack Crawford from the FBI wants to see you in his office right away. They’ve put him up on the third floor.”

That feeling runs through Will again. “Did he happen to say what this was about?”

“No, but don’t worry. It didn’t sound like you were in trouble. Probably just flexing his Fed muscles, remind us who’s in charge now.”

“Great. Thanks for letting me know. ” Will hopped off the treadmill and sped past the messenger out of the gym. He passed his fellow cops in the halls, always walking in pairs, needing the comfort of others even as they try to distinguish themselves. When he first came here, Will wanted nothing more than to blend in with the other sheep. To be included in the little jokes, to be a comforting mirror for his peers, to be trusted with secrets. But it turns out being a cop isn’t too different from being a student. There are the popular cops, the geeky cops, the smart cops, and the drifters like himself. Will was accustomed to standing on the edge, dipping into the center when the need arose. It really was easier this way.

When he got to Agent Crawford’s office, the man was already sitting behind his desk. He ran his fingers along the edge of his desk, and brought his dusty fingers back to his face. Will knocked lightly on the door and the agent motioned him to come in and sit. Crawford had a file open in front of him, and was holding a badly chewed pen.

“You hot, Detective?” Crawford asked, looking Will up and down.

Will glanced down at his tee shirt, drenched in sweat from his run. “I guess. I mean, yes sir. I was in the gym, and it’s always too warm in there.”

Crawford nodded. “It’s worse being inside. Outside, if it’s too hot or too cold, at least you can blame it on the weather God. In here, the only one we have to blame is ourselves.” He flipped the file around and pushes it towards Will. “I’ve got a job for you, Detective Graham.”

Will recognized his own handwriting on the pages staring up at him. “The Jennifer Mitchell case.”

“Tell me what you know about it.”

“Everything should be in the case file.” Will looked Agent Crawford straight in the eye. “I filed the report by the book, sir.”

Crawford stared back at Will. “Humor me.”  


“Jennifer Mitchell, female omega, age 27. A lawyer. She was found floating in a boat on Cedar Lake by a father and his children out for a day of fishing. The killer had covered her body in a white sheet and given her a crown of red roses. The thorns were pressed deep into her skull. She was holding a shard of mirror in her right hand. Cause of death was ruled strangulation.”

Will fell silent and looked out Crawford’s window at the blinding morning light. He had been the one to process the body. The white boat looked like an ice float out on the clear blue lake, the innocent top belying the danger of what lay beneath. He remembers the children sobbing into their father’s arms. They were too young to have the words to describe what they saw, but they instinctively knew the terribleness. Maybe there were no words for what had happened to Jennifer. Only the deep ache of irrevocable loss. 

Crawford pursed his lips. “Anything else?”

“She fought hard.” Will sighed. All of this was in the file. “She had deep ligature marks, down to the bone, around her wrists and feet. Defensive wounds on the palms and forearms. Her fingernails were gone, probably ripped off to get rid of his DNA. She held him off as long as she could.” She gave me enough time to find her. “The level of hCG found in her blood indicated she was pregnant at the time of her death, most likely by the killer. Her uterus was surgically removed postmortem, taken as a trophy, and to shield himself from DNA evidence. Her belly had been stitched back up before posing.”

“Tell me about her killer.”

Will turned his head and looked Crawford in the eye. “You never stop, do you?”

“How do you think,” Crawford said, cracking a bleak smile, “I got to this side of the desk?”

“He is an alpha, obviously, as indicated by the brutality of the crimes coupled with the sexual trophies. Likely male, given the strength required to torture and pose her in this manner. This was not his first kill. He dragged her suffering out, but he knew exactly what he was doing,” Will took a ragged breath before continuing, “He strangled her using his hands, crushed her windpipe by bearing his weight down on her, watched the life drain from her eyes. After everything he had done to her, her actual death took only a few minutes. Although we can’t tell for sure, it looks like he raped her postmortem.” 

Will thought she must have felt relieved, when the killer tightened his hands around her neck for the last time. No knife to the gut, no twisting agony, no strategic cuts slowly bleeding her life away. A few moments of struggle, then the infinite darkness swallowing her whole. Taking her far away from the pain, from her captor, freeing her from the bondage at last.

Will knew to keep these thoughts to himself.

Crawford said nothing. He pulled the file back across the table and thumbed through it to the photos, taking out a shot looking down on the body above, showing the whole picture – lake, boat, omega. He stared at it for a moment before asking, “The posing of the body is reminiscent of Viking funerals, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but there are significant differences. The boat wasn’t set on fire, no measures taken to ensure she doesn’t come back to haunt the killer, and there is nothing to sustain her on her journey to the afterlife.”

“So what is it then?”

“This is about putting her back where she belongs. It might be referencing some story or legend, but he’s being driven to do this by hatred of powerful omegas.” Crawford started gnawing his pen.

Gesturing to the photo in Crawford’s hands, Will continued, “Look at the whole picture. What does the killer do? He covets. He covets the role of alpha. He loves being big, being strong, being undeniable. And part of being an alpha is having an omega underneath you, screaming for your knot, and then scrubbing the floor afterwards to clean up the mess.” Crawford was paying attention now.

“But Jennifer Mitchell,” Will continued, “was not a traditional omega by any measure. She was a successful litigator, outmaneuvering all those screaming alphas. She won by being smarter than them, beating them at their own game. Lived alone in a house she bought herself. We know her past three relationships were with beta women. Everyone we talked to described her as happy and fulfilled. Her life made it clear that she was perfectly fine without an alpha, and this made the killer so, so angry. He felt she needed to be put in her place by any means necessary.”

“Okay,” Crawford said, nodding his head. “You’re on the team.”

“Sir?”

“You’ve just told me more about this crime scene than any of my profilers. We’re looking at this guy in connection to disappearances in Minnesota, South Dakota, and Wisconsin, and keep hitting dead ends. I need you on this.”

“Thank you for the offer,” Will said, “But I’m not sure if I can be on your team. I’m strictly Minnesota State Police, no authority outside of state lines.”  
“We’ll fix that. Give you Special Agent status. You have the credentials for it, two years of work here, Bachelors in Psychology, dual Masters in Criminology and Psychology. You’re twenty-six, right?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You look younger.” 

“Just healthy country living, I suppose sir.” Or being an omega. Will shifted in his seat. “Was this a job interview?” 

“Congratulations, Detective Graham. You are now an honorary member of the FBI. Don’t let me down." More like don’t fuck this up. Crawford stood up and offered Will his hand. Will shook it reluctantly. “Report here tomorrow and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the team.”

\----------

Will wanted to go home, have a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner, play with his dog, and go to sleep in front of the TV. After meeting Agent Crawford and receiving his unexpected new position with the FBI, Will felt overexposed and raw.

But Will had a ticket to the Minnesota Ballet that night, and he had to go.

He bought the ticket when his father had died a year ago. Will’s father was for all appearances a man’s man – fixing boat motors for a living, fishing in his spare time, not using his words, but he loved the ballet. Will’s father had a tenderness that he had rarely seen anywhere else. He always let Will sleep in his bed when he had a bad dream. When people who couldn’t afford to have their motor repaired came to his shop, he let them pay in promises of future fishes. Once, when Will was about ten and learning how to fly fish, he cast his lure straight into his father’s ass. They had to go to the hospital to have it taken out, and Will cried the whole way.

Waiting for the doctor to come stitch him up, his dad said, “I knew it was coming. After all these years, you’ve managed to see through my disguise. You’ve caught me: I’m a trout.”

Tears in the corners of his eyes, Will said, “Dad, this isn’t funny. I really hurt you.”

“What’s funny is that you’re half-trout. You’ll be sprouting gills any day now.”

Will surreptitiously touched his neck. “I don’t really think trout people really exist.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” his dad laughed, “But I made you think about it for a second.” He pulled Will into him for a hug and kissed his head. “You know that you couldn’t do anything to make me love you any less, right? Even if you somehow managed to turn into a trout, I would love you all the same.”

Thinking back on that night in the hospital, Will realized his father suspected that he would present as an omega. Will didn’t turn into a magical creature on the day he presented, but it felt damned close. Before he was just another grain of sand on the shore, but afterwards he was transfigured into a lighthouse. His dad only made him suffer through a year living without scent blockers. Will was adamant from day one that he wanted to be seen as a beta, and his father helped make that happen. They moved all the way from Louisiana up to Minnesota to give Will a fresh start. He bought all of Will’s meds even though they didn’t come cheap, and made excuses for him during his heats. Will never had to go to those ridiculous courting balls or omega finishing schools. His father made sure Will went to college and supported his decision to study psychology rather than traditional omegan pursuits such as nursing or home economics.

Will wished he could talk to his dad right now. To ask him why Crawford wanted him to be on his team. If he should be jumping at this opportunity or turn them down. To have someone push him to interact more with the living. “I’m not saying that you need to have a special friend,” his dad would say, “but it’s a lonely world, Will. And none of us gets through it without a little love.”

“Dad, I don’t need anybody but you.” He’d only gotten a tight, sad smile in response.

Will walked up the marble steps into the theater, and gave his ticket to an elderly woman with pink hair. “Up the first flight of stairs, then go to your right. They have ushers up there to show you to your seat,” she said. “Enjoy the show, dearie. You’ve got the best seat in the house.”

Will was guided into his box seat and the usher softly closed the door behind him. There were only two seats, and the other one was already occupied by a tall man. Will sat down, and the man turned to face Will directly.

“Good evening,” the man said shaking Will’s hand. “I’m Dr. Hannibal Lecter.”

“Will Graham. Nice to meet you, Dr. Lecter.” Will took the man in slowly, his curiously handsome features, full tuxedo with silk cummerbund, eyes the color of dried blood. He was pure alpha.

“The pleasure is all mine. Do you come to the ballet often?”

“No. It’s the first time I’ve been in years.”

“Ah. A special occasion then.”

“Something like that. My dad, he loved the ballet. We didn’t go very often, too expensive, but he wanted me to have some culture. So he’d save up, and we’d go about once a year. Made sure that I saw more than just Nutcracker. He never got to see Swan Lake though, which is crazy because it’s so popular. He said next time, next time, until there were no more next times.” Will laughed a little and shook his head to clear away the memories. “I’m sorry, Dr. Lecter. You came here to have a nice night out and here I am, a random stranger, talking your ear off.”

“Conversation is one of the great pleasures of life,” Hannibal reached up and squeezed Will’s shoulder for a moment, “especially when it comes from the heart. I am sorry for you loss. And please call me Hannibal”

Feeling something flutter inside him at the unexpected touch, Will moved his eyes away from Hannibal’s face and asked, “Only if you call me Will. So how about you? I would peg you as a guy who is a season ticket holder.”

“An astute observation, Will,” Hannibal said with a wolfish smile, “I do attend the ballet often, but this is the first time here at the Minnesota Ballet. I am in town on business, and a friend said I would be remiss if I did not attend tonight’s performance. And it does not hurt that Swan Lake is being performed tonight.”

“Do you like it a lot?”

“It is the quintessential ballet,” Hannibal replied. “It requires the viewer to give himself over completely to the exaggerated reality of the ballet, and the dancers must present this melodramatic ballet with absolute honesty if it is to be successful. And part of me simply wants to believe the fairytale of true love overcoming all obstacles.”

“I think we all want to believe that fairytale,” Will said, shifting his body towards Hannibal.

The corners of Hannibal’s mouth twitched upward. “I am curious to hear what you believe after the performance.”

Will flushed at Hannibal’s words. He was rescued from having to reply by the orchestra starting up and the lights falling. Both men turned to face the stage, but only one was watching as the curtain rose and the dancers appeared. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will talk about the ballet, drink some wine, and have some casual sex. Stay classy boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you for all the kudos and comments on this fic. I read each one and they really motivate me to write more. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I would love to hear your thoughts and suggestions. I am going to try to update every Thursday from here on out. Cheers!

“Would you care to join me for a drink?” Hannibal asked Will as they walked down grand staircase, their footfalls silenced by the plush red carpet. They were among the last to leave the theater, and it made Will feel as if he and Hannibal had stepped into a moment of paused time. The rest of the world had rushed on before them and for a moment he and Hannibal existed in a separate space, held in an iridescent bubble that would pop the moment they stepped outside. 

“Yeah,” said Will, “Still sure you want to pick my brain about what I thought of the ballet?” 

“You do not seem to believe that I find your thoughts interesting,” Hannibal said as he held the door open for them to exit the building, “but nothing could be further from the truth. You captivate me, Will.” 

The spell broke and Will rolled his eyes at Hannibal’s last line. “I’m just that one guy from the ballet.” 

“True, I do not know you inside and out,” The ‘yet’ remained unspoken. “But, you came here tonight to lay your father to rest, not for the first time and not for the last time either, by embracing the ephemeral beauty of artistic performance. I do not know if you realize how beautiful this makes you, Will. You are a rarity in our plastic world, and I would hate to leave you never knowing what could have been.”

Will flushed and pulled his blazer around him to protect him from the wind. There would be no Indian summer this year. “I’m guessing your doctorate is in psychology.” 

“Psychiatry, not to put too fine a point on it.” 

“So, Dr. Lecter, where would you like to go for this drink?” 

“I must insist you call me Hannibal. I’m not here to psychoanalyze you. We could go to the bar across the street,” Hannibal said with a wary tone. Will turned to look at a mass of theater goers clustered around the bar’s entrance, their silks and furs illuminated by a neon sign of a curvy girl dipping her leg in and out of a martini.

“Maybe we could go somewhere a little quieter?” 

“Perhaps, if it’s not too forward of me, we could go to where I am staying. It is only a few blocks up the street, and I have a bottle of Malbec from the high Andes that I have been waiting for the right occasion to open.”

“No,” Will said after a beat. Seeing Hannibal’s fallen face, he amended, “No, I mean, it’s not too forward of you. Going back to your place is fine with me.” 

“Excellent,” Hannibal said. He placed a hand on the small of Will’s back and gently pushed the shorter man northward. As they walked, Hannibal asked, “So what did you think of the performance?” 

“It was different than I expect it to be.”

“How so?”

“Well, like you said, it’s this fantastical story, and I’m not really one for all that Prince Charming, Fairy Godmothers bullshit.” Hannibal let out a small chuckle as Will continued, “But what surprised me was how it showed the illusions that fairy tales give us somehow lead to a higher truth. The Prince doesn't want a real omega. He rejects all the omegas presented to him until he finds this half-omega, half-swan creature and becomes completely enraptured by her.” 

“It is well worth being patient and searching in order to find what you truly desire,” Hannibal said with a wry smile as they crossed a street, “But can you say that the Prince and Odette truly loved each other? It seems more like curiosity in the supernatural to me.”

“Well, from all that I know about love, which really isn't that much, the truest kind has a supernatural flavor,” Will glanced up at Hannibal and swallowed before continuing, “How could he fall in love with any other omega? He and Odette were fated to love one another, to find each other, to sacrifice everything just for the promise of being together.” 

“And when the Prince betrays her by letting himself be seduced by the black swan? How can you say he still truly loves Odette?” 

“How can you say that anyone truly loves anyone?” Will said heatedly. “The Prince falling for Odile and the Sorcerer’s trick is what makes this whole thing relevant to us mere mortals. The Prince’s betrayal hits home that he’s human, just like the rest of us. He fucked up and everyone must suffer the consequences. But, in the end, he does the right thing. Love is bound up in forgiveness for our trespasses, both big and small.” 

Hannibal stopped and Will turned to face him straight on. He smiled slightly as he brought a hand up to Will’ face and gently brushed away a curl that had fallen over his eyes. “Will you forgive me?” 

“There is nothing to forgive,” Will replied, slightly puzzled at the question. The older man wrapped his hand around the back of Will’s head, his fingers entangled in Will’s hair. Slate blue eyes stared into mahogany and Will waited for Hannibal to close the distance between them with a kiss. 

“Where on earth did you come from?” Hannibal murmured. 

“Louisiana.”

Hannibal didn’t exactly roll his eyes at Will’s snarky response, but he came pretty close. “We’re here.” He walked over to the entrance of a tall building made of glass and steel. Hannibal opened the door and waited for Will to follow him wherever it led. 

\---------- 

“How do you like your wine?” Hannibal asked from behind the concrete island in the kitchen. He picked up his own glass and walked over to join Will on the living room couch.

“Ah, haven’t tried it yet. I was waiting for you to get your own glass.”

“That was very polite of you. Do you have a favorite kind of wine?” 

Will shook his head. “I don’t really know anything about wine. I’m more of a beer and whiskey kind of guy.” 

Will stared into his glass to have something to look at other than Hannibal’s angular face. Now that he was inside Hannibal’s apartment, Will realized it probably wasn't his brightest idea to come here without telling anyone. This was not the first night he’d gone home with a strange new alpha to have a pleasurable night before slipping away in the predawn light. But something about this man felt different. Will didn't know if he’d be able to run away when the moment came. The gravitational pull of Hannibal’s orbit was too strong, and Will knew he was doomed to crash into him. 

There was something about Hannibal that gave the overall impression of cruelty, even though he had been nothing but kind to Will the entire evening. Maybe it was in the cut of his trousers that highlighted his straight, strong legs and tight ass. Will could see the animal crouched inside Hannibal’s fine clothes and modern apartment. He was an alpha through and through. Whatever he might be doing superficially, Hannibal was always looking for a way to capture his next prize. Hannibal’s eyes glittered as he turned to face Will.

“Would you like me to teach you?” 

“About wine?” 

“For now.”

“Okay,” Will said with a slight hitch in his voice. Hannibal put down his own glass on the coffee table and moved over so he was pressed against Will. Will felt his heart race as Hannibal touched a finger to Will’s hand to still his nervous swirling of the wine glass. 

“To truly appreciate wine, one must offer up all the other senses before it is tasted. Open your eyes, Will. Tell me what you see.” 

Letting out the breath he didn't know he was holding, Will looked into his glass of wine. “It’s really dark. Maybe more purple than red, when you look at it closely.” 

Hannibal nodded. “In France, it is often called the black wine. Such a seductive color, no? It makes you hunt for its true nature.” 

Will murmured in agreement and brought the glass to his lips, eager partake of the alcohol’s sweet release, but Hannibal’s hand stopped him. “Not yet. Swirl it around. How does it feel? What do you hear?” 

Will started swirling his glass around. “Slower,” Hannibal said. “Do it with intention.” 

Will followed Hannibal’s instructions with a slight huff. “It’s really thick. You can feel how heavy it is, and hear how it sloshes around in the glass. It’s closer to blood than water.” 

“Christ turned water into wine for his first miracle. Moses turned water into blood for the first plague. One suggests grace and truth, the other law and judgment. This cup is halfway between both.” 

Will asked quietly, “Is everything a metaphor with you?”

“Only when appropriate.”

“Can I have a drink now?” 

“Almost. But first you must smell it. Smell is the sense most closely tied to taste and most evocative of memory. ” 

Will brought the glass to his nose and pulled it away. “I smell grapes.” 

Hannibal draped an arm around Will’s shoulder and whispered in his ear, “Try harder.” 

Heart beating rapidly at the close contact, Will sniffed the wine again. “Okay. I think I smell berries of some kind. Maybe blueberries? And some kind of flower.” 

“Violets,” Hannibal said tracing a finger along the edge of Will’s ear and down his neck before resting his hand on Will’s shoulder. “From now on, every time you smell violets the memory of this night will float the surface of your mind.” They sat in silence as the present slipped into the past. 

“Now it is time.” 

“Finally,” Will said before closing his eyes and drinking so deeply from the glass he felt that he might drown. He felt Hannibal pull the wine away from him, and he opened his eyes when he felt Hannibal’s lips crashing down on his. 

“Raspberries,” Hannibal said, pulling away before plunging back into Will. “Tannins, hints of oak.” 

Will nipped at Hannibal’s lip. “And what about me?” 

Hannibal leaned in for another taste before answering, “Oranges and fresh snow.” 

Will returned Hannibal’s kiss ounce for ounce, and moved so that he was straddling Hannibal’s lap. Without breaking off the kiss, he wiggled out of his sport coat while Hannibal’s deft fingers made quick work of Will’s shirt buttons. Will reached out to return the favor, but soon let out a frustrated huff when he couldn't undo the tiny white buttons that bound Hannibal’s shirt together. Hannibal laughed slightly and broke the kiss, leaning back onto the couch and undoing his own buttons while Will ground himself harder against Hannibal’s growing erection, watching the white linen part to reveal taut, tan skin. 

“Get ready.” Will couldn't tell if the command had come from Hannibal or from a place deep inside himself, his primal desire made audible. He stood and Hannibal quickly undid Will’s belt and pants. Hannibal stood up and pulled Will into him for another obliterating kiss, the bare flesh of their torsos meeting and parting and meeting again in happy reunion. 

With a gasp, Will broke away and took a step back. Panting, he said, “You need to know before we go any further that I’m an omega.” 

Hannibal looked unsurprised at this revelation. “I suspected.” 

Will felt affronted. He thought he did a good job at concealing his nature, but he must be slipping. Or maybe it was just that Hannibal was more observant than most. “Are you okay with that? I mean, if we fuck, I don’t want you to, you know, knot me or try to start a bond with me. I’m not looking for anything serious right now.” 

“I would not have invited you here if I did not desire you as you are,” Hannibal said as he walked forward and cautiously touched Will. “And when we fuck, you will know just how much I value your independence. I will never force you to do something you don’t want to do.” 

It was Will that closed the distance between them this time, hands hungrily running over Hannibal’s broad shoulders and strong chest. He jumped up and wrapped his legs around Hannibal’s waist, and Hannibal walked them to the bedroom. He laid Will onto the bed before removing the last remaining articles of clothing from their bodies. Will looked up from his prone position on the bed and saw Hannibal’s cock, long and thick, his knot slightly swelling at the base. Will longed to have it inside him, filling him to bursting with seed, knifing through him until he was split in two. 

Hannibal knelt down and put his head between Will’s legs. He ran his hands along Will’s inner thighs, and Will’s muscles contracted with anticipation. Hannibal teased him, running the fingers of one hand lightly along Will’s length while circling Will’s hole with the index finger of his other hand. The cruelty of his kindness was exhausting and Will growled in frustration. “Get on with it, Hannibal.” 

“The best things come to those who wait,” Hannibal said as he tightened his grip around Will’s penis and increased his speed. “You are so hungry. You have waited too long to feed yourself.” The finger circling his hole pulled away, and Will groaned with the loss of sensation, “Don’t –” but before he continue, he felt something wet and nimble circling him. Hannibal licked and sucked and prodded Will with his tongue, dipping in and out of him. Will felt himself lift upwards onto his tiptoes, his whole body taunt and teetering on the edge of release. “God, Hannibal.” He laced his hand in Hannibal’s hair and pulled him closer. Hannibal was licking him in long strokes, popping his head into his mouth and sucking before moving back down his length and circling his hole. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” 

“You are so wet for me, Will. You taste better than even I could have predicted.” Hannibal remained in tight control of Will and himself, even as his hand traveled down to his own thick cock, pumping it rhythmically.

All Will could now manage was a whimpering, “Hannibal, oh, Hannibal. I’m about to – I’m going to – .” He felt his first orgasm coming. A dribble of clear omega cum pushed itself out of his penis, and he felt Hannibal lift his face to catch what had come out. As Will was starting to come back to himself, Hannibal plunged a finger deep into Will. “More.” Will choked out as he bore down on Hannibal’s finger. Hannibal smiled and pushed a second finger into Will, stretching him and pressing into the hidden part that made Will gasp with pleasure. “More, Hannibal, more.” A second finger was inside him, wiggling alongside the second, exploring, stroking, pressing. “Now, Hannibal, inside me now.” 

As soon as the words were out of him, Hannibal was inside Will with a roar, the animal alpha that was always inside bursting out. Hannibal’s fucking cracked Will open and put him back together again. Will’s orgasm envelop Hannibal’s cock, and Hannibal exploded against the rhythmically contracting and expanding of the omega’s walls. Hannibal leaned forward and captured Will’s lips with his own. They rocked together, riding the waves of orgasm, alone together on an ocean of sensation. 

They crashed into each other again and again, hardness and softness colliding and rearranging until they wore each other’s skin.

\----------

Will walked into the kitchen wearing his boxers and carrying several pieces of clothing in his arms, though not enough to make a full outfit. 

“Good morning Will,” Hannibal said before handing him a mug and a plate of eggs. “Freshly brewed French press coffee and protein scramble.” 

“Thanks,” Will said, gratefully taken the food and coffee and sitting down at one of the bar stools in front of the kitchen island. 

“I need to run soon to get to work on time.” He shoveled food and coffee into his mouth. “This is really good. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted sausage quite like this before. Is it chorizo?” 

Hannibal hummed and moved behind Will. “Something like that. You should slow down and see if you can identify its source. Why don’t you call in sick and we can pick up where we left off?” He said, kneading his hands into Will’s shoulders. “I can write you a doctor’s note.” 

“Dr. Lecter,” Will tilted his head towards Hannibal for a kiss, “abuse of professional authority. I might have to write you up for that one.” 

“It would be a pleasure to be written up by you. And what did I tell you about calling me Dr. Lecter”

Will laughed and kissed Hannibal again before standing up. “Not to. And as much as I’d love to play hooky with you, I’m starting a new job today. Well, it’s my same job, but I got a promotion. I think. Anyways, I really do need to get going.”

“Of course. Would you like me to call you a cab?” 

“No need,” Will said as retrieved his pants from the living room floor and put them on. “I’m parked right around the corner.”

“If you insist.” 

“Yeah, it’ll be easier this way. I had a really great time last night,” Will said. “Listen, I’m not the best at mornings after. I usually flee before I have to deal with them, but this time I didn’t because…whatever,” he said waving his hands to push himself away from the real reason – that he felt safe and whole and very much wanted for the first time in a long time. “I really do want to meet up with you again before you go back to, uh…” 

“Baltimore,” Hannibal offered. “I would like that as well. We did not do as much talking as I had hoped, though the evening was nonetheless very pleasurable.” 

“Yeah,” Will said, staring into Hannibal’s face for a beat too long. “Well, I’ll be on my way then.” Will reached into his sport coat pocket and pulled out a business card. “All my contact info’s on there. My cell’s probably the best number to reach me at.” 

“You’re a cop?” Hannibal asked, the surprise evident in his voice. 

“Yeah, I’ve been working there for a little over two years now. I know that it’s not exactly typical omega work, and I’m not totally out as an omega at work, not out at all actually, but I’m good at my job,” Will said as he walked towards the door with Hannibal following him. “Really good. And I have to go there. Now.” 

“Well, Detective Graham, be safe out there,” Hannibal said as he smoothed out Will’s jacket. 

“I always am,” Will said. Hesitantly, he leaned forward and gave Hannibal a parting kiss. “Until we meet again, Dr. Lecter.” 

Hannibal nodded. “I’ll call you,” he said before gently closing the door. 

“Fuck,” Will said as he flew down the stairs. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before this fic gets too long, I wanted to establish some ' ground rules' for the A/B/O universe in this fic. If you really don't care, you don't need to read this. Most of it will come up in the fic anyways, I just wanted to have a condensed version here for reference. 
> 
> Male omegas can self-lubricate outside of heats when they are aroused, but it’s not the buckets of lubricant needed for heats. Alphas can knot omegas outside heats and this will start the formation of a bond. Bonds are only completed after several months of sex with knots outside of a heat and are sealed during an omega’s heat where both partners bite each other while knotted together. Male omegas can only get pregnant during heats. Heats occur about every three months and last 3-5 days.
> 
> The population breakdown in this universe is about 45% Alpha, 45% Beta, 10% Omega. Alphas and Betas are split evenly between males and females, whereas Omegas have slightly more females than males. 
> 
> While it is not illegal for Omegas to work in law enforcement/the military/other physically demanding and stressful jobs, they are strongly discouraged from working in these fields. Most omegas marry a rich alpha while they are young, stay home, and raise copious amounts of children.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is introduced to the team, they review the violent murder of a young omega college student, the alpha/omega creation myth is discussed. Hannibal sexually harasses Will. Will consumes copious amounts of alcohol.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a warning, this chapter contains some pretty graphic imagery of a sexualized murder of a young woman. Also, this chapter is very plot heavy and not a lot of steamy Will/Hannibal action. Enjoy!

Will tucked in his shirt as he half-walked, half-ran into the office, late despite leaving Hannibal’s two hours before work began. Will’s house was far outside the city limits and the distance from work was a pain in the ass on mornings where all he wanted to do was sleep. Or mornings where he had spent the night in the home of a mysterious stranger and had to drive an hour to his house before booking it back to the city for work.

“Hey Melinda,” he said to the girl at the front desk, “do you know where Agent Jack Crawford from the FBI is right now? I’m supposed to meet with him this morning.”

“I heard all about your promotion, Special Agent Graham,” she replied, punctuating Will’s new title with a bubblegum lilt. “Agent Crawford left a message that you should go to the big conference room up on the third floor when you got in.”

“Thanks, Melinda,” said Will. Jogging up the stairs, Will concentrated on his breath. Breathe in. Breathe out. Simple. Will pushed thoughts about Hannibal and the night they shared aside. He needed all his mental energy to focus on the task at hand. Today, he needed to get into the mind of the killer, know his design. He would deal with Hannibal later.

He picked yellow dog hair off his black pants as he climbed the stairs, knowing his attempts to de-fur his pants were an exercise in futility. Even with a change of clothes and freshly brushed hair, Will knew he gave off the air of dishevelment like the odor of an unfortunate aftershave. Walking into the windowless third floor corridor, Will ran down the silent hall, passing identical door after door, feeling like he had stepped into purgatory where he had one chance to choose the right door if he ever wanted to escape.

Will opened the conference room door to find empty chairs. Heart beating fast, he turned to go see if Crawford was in his office and collided with a woman carrying a box. The force of their impact was enough to send Will’s glasses flying through the air and leave the contents of the box strewn across the floor.

“Sorry!” said Will as he knelt to pick up his glasses. He felt his face redden and he braced himself for the alpha’s backlash.

“It’s alright,” she replied in a calm voice as she knelt down beside him. “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.” She handed him his glasses and Will put them back on with a grateful nod. Looking at the alpha, Will realized that she was beautiful, in that alpha way, clear features and dark hair, radiating a quiet but undeniable strength that somehow reminded Will of Hannibal. Will quickly looked back down at the documents and pictures that had spilled out of the folders.

After the last file had been put back together, the pair stood up and looked at each other awkwardly for a moment. The woman opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of a door opening made her shut it again. Will peered over her shoulder and saw Crawford stepping into the hallway followed by an Asian woman. They walked over to where Will and the alpha were standing, and Crawford handed him a package “Just got this in the mail.”

Will opened it up and took out a new FBI badge with matching credentials. “Welcome officially to the FBI, Special Agent Will Graham,” said Crawford. He gestured towards the open door and the group moved into the conference room.

“Alana, Beverly, Will was, until just now, a detective with the Minnesota State Police Homicide division. He was the one who did the profile on the Jennifer Mitchell killing,” said Crawford as they were sitting down. “He’s going to be assisting our profiling efforts and providing regional insight.”

“Beverly Katz,” said the woman on Will’s left as she handed out the files from the box Alana had brought in. “Crime scene investigator specializing in fiber analysis. I read that profile. It kicked some serious ass, especially when you compared it to those idiotic ramblings done by the state police on the other two killings. Welcome to Murder Club. Alcohol-fueled hazing rituals will be accepted in lieu of sign-up dues.”

“Don’t listen to Katz,” said Crawford. “She likes to tease.” Beverly squinted her eyes and shook her head in disagreement behind Crawford’s back as she turned on the projector.

Nodding towards the other woman, he continued, “This is Dr. Alana Bloom, a recent graduate of Johns Hopkins Medical School and psychiatry residency program.” Alana smiled over at Will. “You will be working with her on creating a profile for our killer.”

“Speaking of which,” said Alana, “I haven’t been briefed about these murders, other than the fact that he targets omegas and has a thing for boats.”

“That’s what I’ve brought you all here to discuss,” said Crawford. “Beverly, I believe you wanted to lead?”

“Right,” said Beverly. She hit the lights and an image ghosted onto the screen.

It was winter. A light dusting of snow covered the ground, and the sky was the piercing light blue of dawn. In the early morning sunlight, the spindly tree branches were made of spun glass, about to be shattered into a million tiny pieces with the slightest breath of air. The lake was dark and heavy with cold water. It would never turn to solid ice, too deep for the freeze to take root. Like a fallen petal from a dying flower, a red boat sat on top of the water.

“November 29th of last year. Clover Lake, Minnesota,” said Beverly. She clicked to the next picture.

A girl, barely out of her teens lay in the boat, waves of black hair floating around her head in a halo. Her lips were pink rosebuds, even as the rest of her skin was the unmistakable blue-gray hue of death. Shiny black stones shone out of her eye sockets. They had the effect of making her look like a seer of things that live in shadow. The black bruises around her neck formed a collar worn to highlight the delicate curve of her neck, the stolen jewelry of a grown woman who used it to glide through darkness, but on this girl it became an anchor. Naked to the waist, her right arm covered her breasts while the left held an antique silver hand mirror up to her tilted head. A white sheet, weighed down by a thick bouquet of red roses blossoming between her thighs, covered her lower belly and legs.

“Julia Pierce, 22, female omega. An honors student at the University of Minnesota studying civil engineering. Last seen alive on the evening of October 7th getting into her car to go home for fall break by her roommate.” New photos appeared on the screen.

Grown out purple nail polish with a white daisy on each big toe.

Wrists and ankles cut to the bone from straining against ropes.

The smiling rip across her abdomen where he removed her sex.

Her student ID photo: lighter hair, nervous smile, blue eyes.

“She was strangled to death, likely two days before the body was discovered,” said Beverly.

“Was she seeing an alpha?” asked Alana.

“No” said Will and Beverly simultaneously. With a deferential nod from Beverly, Will continued, “She was too invested in school. Majoring in civil engineering as an omega? She was probably the only omega in her major, if not in the entire engineering department. If she had stuck it out all the way to her senior year, there was no way she was going to get distracted so close to graduation.”

Beverly nodded. “There was one male alpha she’d dated in high school attending the same university, but by all accounts they had drifted apart. Plus, he’s got the airtight alibi of being on a study abroad in Italy the semester she was killed. Her roommate says she stuck mostly with the other omegas on campus and a few female betas.”

“It sounds like she led a cloistered life, for an omega who was interested in pushing boundaries,” said Crawford.

Alana looked up at the student ID photo. “She doesn’t look like a rebel. She seems like a girl who just wants to live the life she chose for herself.”

“And that makes her an omega living on the edge,” surmised Will.

“There were several objects found in the boat,” said Beverly as she clicked through evidence photos, “most notably the hand mirror, rose bouquet, sheet, and the black stones he used to replace her eyes. No finger prints other than the victim’s on anything. Not even the boat and I went over that bitch three times to try and get even a partial.”

A close up of the stones appeared as Beverly continued, “From the skin around her sockets, it looks like he removed her eyes at least a week before she died.”

“Why didn’t he just blind her? What’s the point of the stones?” asked Crawford.

A familiar voice responded from a dark corner by the door. “When the world was newly born, there were only males and females. All lived together as a big family, and this was good because the world needed a big family to get started. There were many new things to learn and discover, how the animals moved across the land, the plants that were good for healing, how to navigate by the stars. None of these things could be learned alone and everyone was much better off living together. Everyone needed everyone else and no one wanted to live away from the group. People discovered that sex was pleasurable and had many affairs, but no bonds. The number of children grew and grew.”

After many generations, it was becoming very hard to live as one family and share all the food, land, knowledge, and partners. But the people did not want to change. Life in the beginning was hard and this was the only way they knew how to survive. One day, a young man walked away from the family and into the desert. The young man was very beautiful and had lived a life full of pleasure, but there was an ache deep inside him that all the good food and entertainment and sex could not fill. As he wandered, he prayed to the One to be filled with life. After being in the desert for ninety-nine days and ninety-nine nights, the One came to him in a dream as a presence in the void.”

The One asked him, ‘You ask me to give you the most precious gift of all, but gifts come with price. Are you willing to pay?’ The young man looked straight into the something that is the nothing of the One and said yes. The young man suddenly felt a weight in his right hand and in his left. Opening his palms, he found two perfect stone spheres, one black and one white. The young man knew these stones were both his gift and his sacrifice, and pushed the stones into his eyes.”

The young man awoke to darkness. He touched his fingers to his face and found only stones where there once were eyes. But it did not matter because he felt every fiber of his being on fire with divine blessing. His eyes were gone, but he could finally see. He reached out into the darkness and felt a strong hand clasp his own.”

The Stranger in the desert was the young man’s other half, both his copy and his opposite. They lay together in the heat of the desert for seven days and seven nights without resting for food or drink. The made love and they fucked and they both felt themselves die and be reborn. At the end of the week, the young man was pregnant. The Stranger carried him back through the desert home to the young man’s people. The people came out to greet the young man and the Stranger, saying that they thought he had died and asking what had happened in the desert.”

The young man told them his story. He also told them that the young man they knew had died. The person in front of them was no longer a man as they knew men to be. He was the ending of the beginning of the world, and the Stranger was the beginning of the world to come; the world of alphas and omegas.”

Will felt like his sternum was being cracked open as Hannibal told the alpha and omega creation story. Hannibal showing up without telling Will anything about his involvement with the FBI cut deep. It reminded Will of when his best friend abandoned him when he presented and became his primary tormentor. He knew it was just a matter of time before Hannibal revealed him to be an omega accepted into the FBI under false pretenses. Will was frozen in his seat despite wanting to flee, wanting to punch something, wanting to go back to before this moment. Instead he turned to face the alpha that had been fucking him less than twelve hours ago with a pagent contestant runner-up smile plastered across his face.

“This is Dr. Hannibal Lecter,” said Crawford helpfully, “one of the finest minds in all of psychology. He’s here to finish up Alana’s training and to consult on the killer’s profile.”

“Special Agent Will Graham. Nice to meet you, Dr. Lecter,” said Will tightly. The eyes of the man in the blue plaid suite sparkled and the edges of his lips almost imperceptibly turned upwards.

“The pleasure is all mine. Do you come to the danse macabre often?”

“No. It’s the first time.”

“Ah. A special occasion then.”

“So it would seem,” said Will. “Dr. Lecter, while I enjoyed your story, you didn’t really explain why the killer chose to use two black stones. In the story, there is one white stone and one black stone.”

“Of course. The white represents the gift and the choice that the omega makes, and it comes to signify omegas in ceremonies all over the world. The black represents alphas and the sacrifices omegas make to be with alphas. The killer wants to assert his dominance over Pierce, to take away her ability to choose, to mark her as his. He left her blind and empty.”

They all sat in silence, taking everything in. “Well,” said Crawford, “I think that’s enough for a Friday. Will, Alana, Beverly – go get some lunch and start pulling together your observations about this murder. We’ll go over the other one on Monday.”

They all stood up to go. Will kept his eyes fixed on the ground and decidedly did not look at Hannibal. He followed Beverly and Alana out of the conference room. As he walked past, Hannibal touched his arm. He paused and looked up at the alpha’s face, half illuminated, half shadowed. He could feel Hannibal begin to say something when Crawford’s voice shot out across the room, “Hannibal, close the door after Will leaves so we can talk in private.”

Silently thanking Jack Crawford for not leaving him alone with Hannibal Lecter, Will scurried down the hall to catch up with Alana and Beverly.

* * *

“Here’re your two whiskeys and a beer.”

“Thanks,” Will told the bartender. He shot back both whiskeys at the bar then walked over to the booth where Beverley and Alana sat.

“Okay, how about this one,” Beverly said. “A man is trapped on a desert island with his best friend and a fisherman. The fisherman and his best friend go off to catch food while he builds a hut. The fisherman returns alone with some salmon he’s prepared, and tells the man that sadly his best friend fell off a cliff. After the man is rescued from the island, he goes out to dinner and orders salmon. He eats his meal, he pulls out a gun and commits suicide. Why does he do this?”

“He made a suicide pack with his best friend and was fulfilling his end of the bargain,” Alana offered.

“No,” replied Beverly. “Drink.”

“What’s happening here?” Will asked Alana.

“Riddle drinking game. One person tells the riddle, then we try to solve it. If we get it right on the first try, the riddle teller has to take three drink. Second try, they take two drinks. If we can’t guess the answer, we have to take two drinks.” Alana sipped on her beer. “Your turn to answer.”

“Umm…the man tastes the salmon at the restaurant and realizes that the fisherman lied to him. He ate his best friend.” Will looked up at Beverly.

“Damn it, Graham, that was my best one,” Beverly smiled at him before taking two long gulps from her vodka cranberry. “Never took you for one with a lot of interest in cannibalism.”

“You’ve caught me. I’m the cannibal you’ve been hungering for,” Will said smiling

“Oh, God, Will. I don’t know if we can be friends if you keep going with these puns. You’re almost as bad as Hannibal,” Alana said and Will cringed.

It felt good hanging out with people with Alana and Beverly. He was expecting them to be a bunch of macho alphas like he had met in the police academy. While all of the FBI team were alphas, they were more the crush-my-enemies-with-intelligence kind of alphas. Except perhaps Hannibal. Hannibal would probably lure his enemies in under false pretenses then kill them with brute strength.

“Everybody shots!” yelled Beverly as the waitress brought over a tray of tequila. “Two for you Graham, you newbie.”

“Tequila is not my shot,” said Will before downing his two in quick succession.

“You didn’t seem to mind too much,” said Alana smiling.

“Yeah, well, it’s been a long day.” He though back to the confrontation he’d with Hannibal that afternoon.

* * *

“Dr. Lecter, may I talk to you about the Pierce case for a moment?” said Will with forced cheerfulness from the doorway to Hannibal’s office.

“Certainly, Will. Please come in and shut the door behind you.” Will did so and sat down in the chair across from Hannibal. He brought his hand to his mouth and chewed on the cuticle of his left-hand thumb.

“Why didn’t you tell me you worked for the FBI?” asked Will. His thumb started to bleed and he switched to his pinkie.

“I did not think it was relevant.”

“Not relevant?” Will stood up and began pacing across the office. “You’re my boss, Hannibal.”

“Incorrect” replied Hannibal as he looked at Will like a cat eying a mouse. “I am merely supervising the compilation of a profile for this killer of omegas.”

“And I just happen to be creating that profile,” said Will as he sat down again.

“Yes. I would prefer that you were not on this particular case, but it is not in your nature to give up on something once you sink your teeth into it,” said Hannibal as he leaned forward.

Will closed his eyes. “Whatever it was that happened between us, whatever we might have wanted to happen between us, it has to stop now. We just need to pretend like nothing happened last night, and we met for the first time this morning.”

Will stood up and walked to the door. As he was about to turn the handle, he felt the solid mass of Hannibal press up against him, their combined weight forcing the door shut. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Will.” Hannibal kissed the back of Will’s neck in the place that seemed to be connected to his groin and it made him groan with want.

Will flipped around to face Hannibal. “We at least can’t do this at work.” Hannibal gave a dismissive murmur of acquiescence as he traced a line down Will’s front with his index finger. Will grabbed the hand that was torturing him. “Hannibal. Stop.” With a frown, Hannibal removed his hand from Will's grasp.

“Thanks,” he said as he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. Hannibal remained impassive.

“Look, I stand by what I said this morning. I mean, when we first met this morning. I still want you to call me. But,” said Will as he closed the door, “only after work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's chapter three! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Things are going to get rolling pretty quickly after this for both Will and Hannibal's relationship and tracking down the murderer. Thanks to everyone for reading, leaving kudos, and comments!


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after and the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight dub-con in this chapter.

Will was gently stirred from sleep by the warmth of the morning light coming through the windows. He lay still for a moment, savoring that weightless place in between sleep and dreams before opening his eyes. He was in his familiar bed wearing boxers and a soft tee-shirt with a fading University of Minnesota logo splashed across the chest. Rubbing his eyes as he sat up, he tried to push away the hangover barging into his head. With a groan, he rolled out of bed and was accosted by a slimy tongue. 

“Hey Sadie,” said Will as he scratched the yellow lab. “Are you hungry?” The dog gave a small bark in response and ran into the kitchen. Will followed her as his head began to pound in earnest.

After feeding the dog and downing some ibuprofen chased by two glasses of water, Will went back into the bedroom and fished his running clothes out of the dresser. He could feel the remnants of the alcohol in his system and he was eager to sweat last night out of his pores. As he pulled on his shorts, he looked out onto the lake that spread out behind the house like a stain. It was the best part of the property and the reason why his father had bought the land sight unseen from their home in Louisiana. The only structure on the property at first was the lean-to they lived in for the first three months while his father scrambled to build the house before winter came. They hadn’t had running water or even real floors, but Will remembers the happiness of those first months of freedom. He swam in the lake for hours every day that summer, losing himself in the movement while growing tan and lean and strong.

Sadie’s paws clicking across the hardwoods as she came over to Will brought him out of his reverie. She leaned into him for a pet and thumped her tail as he rubbed her soft fur. “Do you want to go for a run?” Will asked and Sadie tugged on his shorts in response. With a slight chuckle, Will tightened his shoe laces before launching out the door into the woods.

For the first few minutes, running was agony. A fallen branch almost left him flat on his ass, but soon enough he got his feet moving in a steady rhythm. His body was making him pay for all those shots.  It was dreadful, but Will kept going. That had always been his mantra, keep going, keep going, keep going, whenever he felt weak or scared. It was what had gotten him through life as an omega.

When he first presented back in Louisiana, all of Carver High School knew about it within a week. It wasn’t too hard to figure out, as he reeked of omega pheromones, and the rumor mill was efficient enough to inform even those who had never heard of the scrawny freshman Will Graham before. Mercifully, his first heat had been over summer break, so he didn’t have to suffer through teasing and taunting when an essential part of himself was swiftly destroyed. But the lingering looks and unwelcome touches came soon enough. He had begged his dad to let him go on scent blockers immediately, but he refused, citing the fact that Will’s body needed a year to adjust to the changes of omega puberty without chemical interference. It was the only thing that Will had truly wanted that his father had denied him. For the first few months after he presented, he would come home from school and lock himself in his room, only coming out to grab his dinner plate before retreating back upstairs to eat alone.

Will cringed at the memory as he jumped over a rock. He had never apologized to his father for the way he had acted during those teen years. He hadn’t realize how hurtful he must have been until it was too late. Full of white-hot rage at the universe for making him an omega, he couldn’t let the betrayal of his body become just another part of himself for a long time. Running through the forest, Will held on to the knowledge that he dad had only ever tried to do right by him and loved him unconditionally. Tears sprung up in his eyes and he let them fall. He crashed through the woods, sending sparrows and squirrels scattering away from his path. Sadie chased after them, running out in a wide arc with Will at its center. They flew across the land until their bodies could give no more.

Will felt hollowed out but better for it after his run. Pulling off his sweat-drenched tee shirt as he walked up the stairs to the back door of his house, he made for the kitchen and a cold glass of water. He filled the cup already sitting beside the farmhouse sink and gulped down the cool liquid. Hearing the front door open unexpectedly, he turned around to see the bulk of another person entering his house. The glass in Will’s hand fell to the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces.

“Shit!”

“Good morning, Will.”

 Will knelt to clean up the mess. “Why do you do that every single time?”

“Do what?” Hannibal asked as he placed several overflowing canvas grocery sacks on the kitchen counter. “Stop, William. You are going to cut yourself.”

“There’s a broom and dustpan in the pantry,” said Will with a gesture to his right. “You just appear wherever I am. How did you get in here?”

“You need to be more vigilant about locking you doors,” Hannibal reprimanded. “A murderer could just let himself in.” He moved Will away from the broken glass and methodically swept the pieces into a small pile.

“I have a dog.” On cue, Sadie walked into the room with her tail wagging as she made a beeline for Hannibal.

“A vicious beast indeed,” said Hannibal. He gave the dog a scratch behind the ears and her tongue lolled out in happiness.

 “Good thing it’s just you then,” said Will as his fear loosened its grip on his heart. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re in my house.”

“Do you not remember what happened last night?” Hannibal asked as he dumped the shards of glass into the trash. As they fell, they made a grating sound that set Will’s teeth on edge.

“I remember being really angry at you and going to a bar with Alana and Beverly to blow off some steam. And then Beverly made us play all these weird drinking games and this guy kept sending shots over.” Will suddenly became very aware that he was almost naked. He wrapped his arms around himself in a feeble attempt to cover up.

“You were fairly intoxicated,” said Hannibal. He opened up the bags he had brought in and started putting their contents away. Fresh eggs, milk, butter. A block of cheese that was decidedly not cheddar. Apples, oranges, strawberries. Bread in a brown paper bag that filled the kitchen with the smell of yeast. Tomatoes, lettuce, onions, garlic. A piece of meat from the butchers wrapped in white paper and twine.

“I was shitfaced while Alana and Beverly were practically sober. And why did you bring all this food over?”

“Omegas metabolize alcohol at a much slower rate than alphas or betas. From where I sat, you seemed to be doing an admirable job of keeping up,” said Hannibal. “And you didn’t have anything to eat, so I went to the store.”

“I do too have food in the house.” Will walked over to the hamper of dirty clothes sitting just outside the kitchen waiting to be washed and grabbed the shirt lying on top. It was a red button-down flannel and paired oddly with his gym shorts, but covering up his torso made Will feel less like a shorn lamb.

“Ketchup, Lucky Charms, and string cheese do not count as food,” said Hannibal as he started pulling out dry goods. Flour, sugar, salt, coffee. Egg noodles in a clear plastic bag with a Mama Lucia’s Bakery stamp on the front. Olive oil, sundried tomatoes, Kalamata olives.

Will was suddenly struck by the absurdity of Hannibal bringing him food. “How do you know what I have to eat? More importantly, how do you know where I live?”

“Think back to last night,” said Hannibal as he opened up the package from the butcher’s. Liver.  “Why did you leave Alana and Beverly?”

* * *

An alpha sitting over at the bar had been sending over drinks and staring at Will all night. He had taken the drinks, but hadn’t turned around to look at the alpha after the first round. Much to their delight, and much to Will’s chagrin, Alana and Beverly provided reconnaissance.

“The come-thank-me stare is being deployed at full force,” said Beverly.

“He’s cute. In a jock-turned-middle-manager kind of way,” offered Alana.

Will slithered down the booth’s green vinyl padding and the world spun slightly. “No. I am not interested. And why do you think I like guys anyways? I could like girls.”

Alana and Beverly looked at each other over Will’s head before busting out laughing.

“Will,” said Alana, “When you saw Hannibal, the most quintessential alpha male that has ever walked this earth, you looked like you wanted to either have sex with him or kill him.”

“Or both. Maybe at the same time,” said Beverly.

“What I know,” Alana continued, “Is that you were interested in what he was putting out.”

“And you’re pretty enough to be an omega, which is why this guy keeps sending over the drinks,” said Beverly. Will groaned and turned his head into Alana’s shoulder. She gave him a gentle pat.

“Don’t feel bad,” Beverly continued, “This firmly establishes your place as a valuable member of murder club. We’re going to take you and your pretty face with us every time we go out. Public servants are perpetually low on funds and in need of a drink.”

All three of them laughed and Will sat back up. Their giggles were cut short by the alpha from the bar suddenly appearing at the end of the table.

“What are you three laughing at?” he asked in the exact voice of Will’s high school history teacher. He felt drowsy with the memory.

“Listen, buddy,” Beverly said as if the man were an overly invested witness she was questioning, “Your government thanks you for the drinks, but he’s not interested.”

The man didn’t move. “The name’s Jim, not Buddy. Why did you keep drinking them if you weren’t interested?” he asked.

“Because you kept sending them over,” answered Alana in a voice that indicated the conversation was over.

“That’s not fair,” said the alpha. “I’m a nice guy. Just come grab some food with me at the bar.”

In his inebriated state, Will let his empathy open up to consider the alpha. He felt the man’s desire for a tight hole. He really wanted an omega, but this pretty beta would do for tonight. If he had been an omega, he might even want something long term, as long as the omega would fuck on command and clean the house. Will leaned into Alana and pushed himself out of the alpha’s head. 

“Jim, thank you for the drinks,” said Will. “But I really am not interested in anyone right now. I’m just here to hang out with my friends.”

“That’s what all you pretty bitches say,” said Jim.

Will looked down at the table. He felt Alana and Beverly stiffen around him and raise their hackles. For first time that evening, Will was reminded that the two women on his sides were powerful alphas who ate guys like this for breakfast. Will knew they had dominated overblown assholes before and would take this one out if Will asked them. Their loyalty to him, even when they thought he was a beta, was touching.  

“You all say you want a nice guy, but when we come along you reject us.” The nasal quality of his voice increased as he continued. “I would really appreciate it if you would tell me what gives. Really, tell me how this works. I’m dying to know.”

Will looked up from the table to stare the man straight in the eye. “You want to know what gives, asshole? You’re standing there, claiming to be a nice guy just because you bought me and my friends a couple drinks. You did that because you wanted to get into my pants. And that’s fine, but own up to it. Look at yourself. You’re not a nice guy. You just like to think you are because then you can blame me for rejecting you rather than looking at the hard truth of yourself.”

Jim looked ready to launch across the table to strangle Will. Beverly and Alana looked ready to pull him apart limb from limb. Will closed his eyes to try and shut everything out.

 He meant every word he had said to the belligerent alpha, but it still took a lot from him to be that vocal. There was part of him that always wanted to roll over and do whatever was asked of him by an alpha. It was easier to refuse annoying jerks, but around alphas he respected like Alana, Beverly, and Crawford, it was a lot harder. Around Hannibal, it was nearly impossible.

After he had refused Hannibal’s advances that afternoon, he had walked straight to the restroom and promptly emptied his guts into a toilet. When Hannibal had kissed the back of his neck, Will wanted nothing more than to lay down on the desk and let Hannibal fuck him there and then. But he knew if he did, Hannibal would never see him as someone to be taken seriously at work. And Will needed him to be on his team, to support him when he made leaps he couldn’t quite explain. He needed Hannibal to see him as a partner, not a plaything.

“Who the hell are you?” asked the alpha suddenly.

Will opened his eyes to see Hannibal casually leaning on the corner of their booth. He’d taken off his suit jacket and the strength coiled in his arms and chest was clearly visible. Will reached over and downed the bottom half of Beverly’s vodka cranberry.

“A friend. Is there a problem here?” 

“Just some whores trying to ruin my night,” said the man.

Hannibal narrowed his eyes. “Consider your night sufficiently ruined. It believe it would be in your best interest if you removed yourself from the premises.”

“No way. I spotted him first,” said the man with a sneer. “Go get your own.”

With the dexterity and speed of someone twenty pounds lighter and ten years younger, Hannibal slammed the man against the wall and held him up by his lapels. The low roar of conversation abruptly stopped and Will could feel the bar’s customers shift in their seats to watch the fight between the two alphas.  

“Listen to me carefully,” Hannibal said in a deliberate voice as the man kicked and sputtered. “Those ‘whores,’ as you dared to call them, are very good friends of mine. You are being incredibly rude to them and all the other patrons of this establishment.”

Hannibal dropped the man to the ground and said, “You are going to leave now and never return.”

“Fuck you,” the smaller alpha rasped out before charging towards Hannibal. With a bored look on his face, Hannibal reached out and flipped the man over onto his back, sending him crashing down onto a table behind Hannibal, knocking over beer glasses and landing with a satisfying crunch on the basket of peanuts. The alpha gingerly lowered himself to the floor and rolled his head the right, submitting to Hannibal and asking to be done with the fight. The room let out an audible sigh of relief. Fights between alphas often left snapped bones and smashed skulls in their wake, especially when an object of desire was involved.   

“I think it’s time for y’all to leave,” said the bartender. In the mirror behind the bar, Will could see the man’s hand resting on a shotgun.

“I would like nothing better,” said Hannibal.

“Hannibal –,” Alana started as she slid out from the booth.

“We will discuss this outside.” She bowed her head in deference and walked to the door. Beverly quickly followed.

Will could feel himself starting to fall as he exited the booth, but Hannibal caught him before he hit the floor. Face flushed, Will shivered with anticipation of the reprimand he was sure was coming as Hannibal half-walked, half-carried him across the restaurant. He could smell the displeasure rolling of Hannibal in waves, but cutting through that was Will’s own intense feeling of relief. Maybe it was the alcohol swatting away rational thought, maybe it was the advances of the other alpha, maybe it was seeing Hannibal whisper towards the darkness, but Will suddenly knew that he would rather be terrified beside Hannibal than towering above anyone else. As they stepped out the door and into the night, Will wanted Hannibal to ensnare him completely.

He was determined to never let Hannibal know this.

They walked out to the parking lot where the two women were waiting beside Beverly’s car. She was holding the keys in her hand and nervously flicking them between her fingers. Will was released from Hannibal’s tight grip and he leaned against the car to keep upright.

“I think,” said Hannibal, “it is time to retire for the evening. Are you alright to drive home?”

Glancing over to Beverly, who nodded in the affirmative, Alana said, “We’ll be fine. The hotel is only five minutes away. Thank you for coming Hannibal. I thought we all could use a break after today at work, but things obviously didn’t go as planned. Still, I’m glad you were there to intervene.”

“You’ve got to teach me how you threw that guy onto the table,” said Beverly. “That was some next level shit.”

“I always welcome the opportunity to help a friend,” said Hannibal. He looked over at Will who had slunk down onto the pavement and was holding his head between his knees trying not throw up. “I will take William home with me.”

“I don’t want to go home with you,” said Will. The words stuck in his mouth like saltwater taffy and he knew they had come out slurred.

“Of course not. I will simply see you safely to your home,” said Hannibal. “Goodnight ladies.” He reached down and pulled Will to his feet.

“See you Monday,” said Beverly as she opened her door. “Graham, sorry about all the shots. All things consider though, hanging out with you made for one interesting night.”

“Get some rest,” said Alana. “Next time we go out will hopefully be less eventful. And thanks again for everything Hannibal.” She shut her door and they were off.

“So, Mr. Graham,” said Hannibal as he guided Will to a black sedan, “where is home?”

“Far away from here,” said Will. Hannibal opened the passenger door and gently placed Will inside.

After Hannibal sat down behind the wheel, Will handed him a phone. “Here are the directions to my house. It’s about an hour away.”

“Alright,” said Hannibal as started the car. “Are you sure I cannot persuade you to come back to my place? It is much closer and I know you must be feeling terrible.”

“No. I need to take care my dog and I want to sleep in my own bed,” said Will. Hannibal shot him a look. “Alone. God, what is it with alpha males?” Will turned his head to look out the window at the road as the car moved in and out of the reach of the streetlights.

“I did mean to imply anything untoward.”

Will sighed and turned back to Hannibal. “I know. Look, I’ve been a bit of a prick towards you today when all you’ve done is help me. You’re a better alpha than I deserve. I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to forgive.” Hannibal placed a hand on the inside of Will’s thigh and he felt a jolt go through him. “Try to get some sleep Will.”

Will grunted in response and jammed his head between the window and the head cushion. He looked up at the summer sky, the stars visible even this close to the city. Hannibal’s hand never moved from its original position, tethering Will to the alpha’s calming presence.

Will jerked his eyes open at the sensation of someone else removing his shirt. He saw Hannibal dimly illuminated by the room’s yellow light and relaxed slightly.

“Hello, Will. You have a lovely home,” said Hannibal as he continued his work unbuttoning Will’s shirt. It was Will’s last remaining item of clothing. Idly, Will noticed that Hannibal was still fully clothed.

“My father built it from the ground up.”

“He was a fine builder.” The shirt was completely undone and Hannibal pulled it off in a fluid motion. Will sat naked on the end bed as Hannibal neatly folded the shirt and placed it on top of Will’s other clothes sitting in the blue sitting chair across from the bed.

“The dog?”

“I fed her and let her out. She is sleeping in her crate.”

“What are we doing here?”

“You said you wanted to come home.”

“Not that. You and me.”

“We are doing what alphas and omegas have done since time immemorial.”

“Why am I naked and you fully clothed?”  

Without saying a word, Hannibal sat down beside Will on the edge of the bed and ran a finger across his lips. They parted slightly to receive the digit and Will started to suck on the offering. Hannibal’s other hand nudged Will’s shoulder and he laid down in response.

Hannibal removed his finger from Will’s mouth and brought his hand down to Will’s crotch to prepare his hole. Will had been wet since Hannibal had demonstrated his strength and somehow Hannibal knew it. He knew Will had been on the edge of orgasm from the moment he caught him getting out of the booth. He knew touching his leg in the car had made Will hard with anticipation and want. He knew how much Will wanted to give in to instinct.

Hannibal stretched and explored Will’s hole while using his other hand to pump the omega’s dick. Will reached out to reciprocate, but Hannibal swatted the hand away before continuing his ministrations. The sensation of Hannibal’s hands on the most private parts of himself made Will’s toes curl and his hair stand on end. He closed his eyes to try and hold off the fog of pleasure that was about to overtake his senses and rob him of reason. He bore down on the thick fingers opening him up, enjoying the relief they offered but growing desperate for the feeling of fullness.

Abruptly, Hannibal removed his hands and stood, leaving Will gasping at the loss of sensation. He sat up on his elbows to see if something was wrong. The straining outline of Hannibal cock was clearly visible through his pants, and Will watched him deftly undid his fly while keeping all his clothes on.

“William, I respect you and value your company. But do not think for a moment that I would deny my nature for you.” The only sign that Hannibal was at all aroused, besides his engorged cock, was a small bead of sweat on his forehead.

“Never,” panted Will just wanting to get Hannibal back inside. “Never.”

“Good,” said Hannibal as he drove his bulging cock into Will. He thrust vigorously, pounding the omega into the mattress so hard that Will could feel the springs beneath the padding and sheets. The fabric of Hannibal’s pants scratching against Will’s skin, the sensation so strong that he was afraid his thighs would be left bloody and raw. Will wondered if Hannibal’s pants could be dry cleaned if he got blood on them. He didn’t know the answer and, as Hannibal pulled him closer, he found he didn’t really care.

Will closed his eyes as he was brought to the brink of orgasm. He felt his walls tighten around the throbbing cock inside him and the alpha’s knot began to swell in response. Even though he was definitely not a virgin and Hannibal had stretched him, he still felt the painful ache bordering his pleasure.  The pain tethered him to his body and to Hannibal.

“Do you want me to knot you Will?” said Hannibal, his breath warm on Will’s ear. Silver eyes met maroon and the omega nodded.  Still fully clothed and without dislodging his member, Hannibal knelt on the bed. Will draped his legs over the alpha’s shoulders and he felt Hannibal swell until he nothing could separate them but time. Hannibal placed his hands on the small of Will’s back, encouraging the omega to lift up in an arch. Their bodies made music with ancient rhythms played on a new instrument. 

They silently stared at each other as Will broke orgasm after orgasm free from Hannibal. No children would come from tonight’s coupling, for Will was not in heat. But it was the birth of their bond as alpha and omega. The first link on the chain of connection that would bind them together for life had been forged.

* * *

 

“I left them because I wanted to go home with you,” said Will.

“And how do you feel now?”

“I like my choices, even if I was drunk when I made them,” said Will. Hannibal smiled with his eyes as he placed a plate in front of Will. “Liver and onions? I think you just made the only dish I categorically refuse to eat.”

“This liver has been specially prepared for you. Please at least try it before you pass judgment.”

Will cocked his head in disbelief. “I could say the same thing to you about McDonald’s, Mr. Fancy Food. Do you want to make a bet?”

Hannibal almost recoiled at the suggestion. “I see that Ms. Katz has been feeding you ideas.”

“Alright, alright I’ll try some,” said Will. “No need to drag Beverly’s name through the mud.” He picked up his knife and fork and dramatically cut off a small slice of the dark meat. His eyes widened in surprise as he chewed.

“It’s sweet. Liver has always tasted so bitter to me before.”

Hannibal nodded. “I soak the meat in milk for precisely half an hour. It is enough to remove some of the bitterness, but so long that the meat loses its distinctive flavor. Of course, knowing the source animal helps to ensure a better final product as well.”

“No two-for-one sales at the grocery store for you then.”

“Never speak of such a thing to me again,” said Hannibal. Will couldn’t tell if he was being serious or joking.  “Though I do believe in industriousness and not letting good food go to waste.”

“Speaking of not going to waste, you were very careful about not spilling last night.”

“Leaving a mess in your home would have been very rude.” Seeming to hear his own words, Hannibal filled the sink with warm water and soap to do the dishes.

“And bodily fluids are very difficult to remove from clothing.”

“True. Though there are other reasons.”

“Such as?”

Hannibal returned a clean knife he had been drying to the butcher’s block sitting on the counter. He walked over and stood in front of Will and gently cupped the younger man’s face in his palms.

“You cannot go without an alpha’s protection any longer, William.” Will flinched at the words and looked away from Hannibal.  

“You know it is true,” said Hannibal. “You saw how belligerent that man at the bar became last night when you asked him to leave. Yes, scent blockers allow you to pass as a beta. But simply taking a pill does not change what you are and the longer you remain unbonded, the more vulnerable you become.”

“So last night was just about reminding me of my place?” asked Will. He could feel the tears stinging in the corners of his eyes.

“Of course not,” said Hannibal. He gently stroked Will’s jaw with his thumb. “From the moment I met you, I knew you were the one I have been waiting a very long time for.”

Will was silent for a moment. He looked outside at the tall maple tree whose branches extended out over the lake. Will had hung a rope from the thickest branch to swing out and jump into the lake. After hundreds of swings, he could instinctively feel the instant when the rope stood still, when its moment shifted from going out to going in. That was the moment to let go.

“I was waiting for you too.”

The pair sat in the late morning light of the kitchen, savoring the moment of finding the self in another. The ringing of a cell phone cut through their reverie.

“Special Agent Will Graham.”

“Will, this is Jack Crawford. Some hunters found a body this morning that I want you to come see.” Will felt his stomach plummet to the ground. Hannibal had already cleared away his plate and was putting the last of the dishes away.

“Is it another omega?”

“No, but there are several links to the other cases that only the killer could have known.”

“Alright, I’ll be on my way in ten minutes.”

“Great. I’ll text you the address.” The call disconnected. A few moments later, Hannibal’s phone started to ring.

“No rest for the wicked."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I am a week late updating, but I made this chapter a little longer than usual to make up for the tardiness. It's been a crazy few weeks, and I will try to get back on schedule. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will take a field trip to a crime scene. Someone has some explaining to do.

I place you on a lake of roses. The thorns scratch at your flesh, but you can no longer bleed. The red petals substitute, forming pools of beneath the length of your body. The cloying scent tinged with death radiating from your resting place ensures that nothing native shall approach. Neither beast of the land or fowl of the air will feast upon your remains, but my true prey will be lured in by the spectacle. The one I have waited for will come to me.

This is my design.

Your eyes are now spheres of white marble. It was mined in Italy, placed in the mountains by God for man to remove and make sacred by rough hands armed with crude tools and visions of truth. Once only artists touched marble, revealing the souls waiting inside. Now it is used to make the experience of shitting more pleasant in the mansions of children with new money burning holes in their pockets. The time has come to remember things carried in the memory of bones. They will remember tradition is what gives us the strength to endure. See the memory before you.

This is my design.

I took the time to stitch you back together after I removed my prize. Still, I drape a white sheet over your groin and abdomen to cover up the memory of my ministrations, leaving only splendid flesh. You will not suffer the fate of Prometheus, he who gave fire to man. The offending organ will not grow back just for me to peck it out over and over again. You are meant only to symbolize the fire that makes all of life possible. Your body is the message and I am the messenger. Read what is written.

This is my design.

I light a tall white candle, tipping it so that the wax falls down onto the black wood of the boat. Before it hardens completely, I place another in the small white pool of wax. I work my way around the boat, repeating the process of lighting, dripping, mounting. I maneuver the small black boat to rest half on the shore and half in the water. My design is a light in the darkness. By the time they come, the candles will be spluttering stubs, the flame which once stood tall on a pedestal of wax now suffocating on it. No matter. Everything will be illuminated soon enough. Let yourself be opened up or I will do so for you.  

This is my design.

This is my design.

This is my design.

* * *

 

Will knew he wasn’t supposed to be sleeping right now. But it felt so good to not have to think. He was safe in the darkness inside his head.

“Will,” a voice kept saying. He knew the voice. There was something he was supposed to be doing right now. Something that hurt. Something to do with Hannibal.

The darkness whispered softly in response. He didn’t have to hurt anymore.  He didn’t have to think anymore. He didn’t have to feel anymore. He could just let go.

“Will,” the voice said again and it moved something inside him. With a rush like coming up for air after diving into the ocean, Will came back to himself.

His face was all Will could see and it stilled something inside him, even as he could feel his body shake and hear his choking breaths. The alpha was cradling him, the classic position used to calm omegas under duress. Will buried his face in the crisp white cotton covering Hannibal’s chest, breathing in his comforting scent.  Hannibal gently ran his fingers through Will’s curls, reassuring the omega. 

“Hannibal,” he croaked out as he turned his face up to the alpha.

“Shhs,” he responded. “You had a traumatic episode. We are going home as soon as possible.” Hannibal reached into his pocket and removed his keys.

Will heard the slamming of car doors and turned to see that the rest of the FBI team had arrived and were walking towards the pair. He quickly turned back into Hannibal’s chest, cheeks flushed as he felt tears spring into his eyes. There was no way he could hide after something like this, especially after last night. It was so obvious that he was an omega. He was going to lose his job for lying about his status to Crawford. There was no future in policing or behavioral analysis after this. Marriage would be the only option to keep him afloat. He could see the rest of his life spread out before him and he dissected it like one of his crime scenes – pregnancy after pregnancy, never leaving the house, simpering conversations with other omegas. The tethers that kept him from the parts of him that would destroy him would fray and break, letting him slide into meaningless inertia. The idea filled his mouth with putrescence and he longed to push away the despair of a life lived only through others.    

And so he did.

He sat up straight and pulled away from Hannibal. With a flick of a frown, the alpha let him go. Hannibal stood before offering a hand to help Will to his feet, but the omega pretended not to see. Alana, Beverly, and Crawford reached the pair as Will gingerly rose into a standing position.  

“You doing okay there Graham?” asked Beverly and Will nodded in response.

“William had an intense reaction upon seeing the crime scene,” replied Hannibal. “I believe it would be for the best if he returns home immediately.”  

“Hannibal,” he said in a steady voice, “I know you are worried about my health, and I am grateful for your concern. I have never had this sort of reaction at a crime scene before.” This was not strictly true, but the FBI (and more importantly Hannibal) had no way of knowing this. “I really am fine to stay, just let me catch my breath.”

The corners of Hannibal’s mouth seemed to curl in a self-satisfied smile, but he said nothing.  The lack of pushback from the alpha unnerved Will. He strangely seemed almost happy at the omega’s response. In that maddening way of his, Will realized that Hannibal had tucked himself away in a skillful dance composed of concealing and revealing.

 “You don’t need to push yourself. If you need a rest you should take it,” said Alana, feeding off her mentor’s cues.

“Like I said,” said Will, “I am fine.” He started to walk towards the boat still waiting on the beach.

“Hold it, Graham,” barked Crawford. Will turned to see him standing with arms folded and looking nonplused. “Have you ever seen a dead body before?"

 “Of course I have. The crime scene was just a lot to take in.”  

“What, the body of a dead beta male in a boat? Surely this isn’t the most gruesome thing you’ve ever seen. I don’t have time for one of my profilers to be incapacitated by a crime scene, Graham. Can you do this or not?” 

Will bristled at Crawford’s words. “Despite what Dr. Lecter and Dr. Bloom suggest, I am fine to continue processing this scene” said Will. “It wasn’t the victim that got to me. It was the killer.”

“I don’t see how that makes a difference,” said Crawford with a dismissive shake of his head.  “If you want this, you need to convince me that you are the profiler I thought you were.”

Before responding to Crawford, Will dared a glance at Hannibal’s face and saw something ferocious in his eyes. It reminded Will of a stag he had seen in a documentary once. The film was about a wolf pack, big and strong, unafraid of going after the lone stag. In a clam and remote voice, the narrator said the stag would most likely die in a flurry of sharp teeth and claws and blood.

But the stag seemed to know exactly what was going to happen before the pack even began their approach. When the wolves started to encroach, the camera zoomed in close to his broad brown face and dark eyes. There was no fear there. His eyes were steady with resolve, calm but holding the fire of a true survivor. He wasn’t angry; there was no room for such an unwieldy emotion. He was filled with singular purpose and would do whatever necessary to accomplish his goal. It was terrifying and exhilarating to witness. He killed the wolf with his antlers on the first pass. The blood ran down his face and neck, staining his tan hide black.

 “You want to know the whole story out here in the open?”

“We’re the only ones for miles around,” said Crawford. “The state forensics team coming to assist us is still an hour out. Anything you have to say can be said right here, right now.”

“Fine.” Will shoved his hands in his pockets and looked out past the boat and into the dark trees surrounding the boat. “When I see a crime scene, I can get into the mind of the killer.”  

“What, like Whoopi Goldberg in _Ghosts_? Are you a psychic?” asked Beverly. 

“Beverly,” said Crawford in the warning tone of a teacher telling off the class clown.

“Not that kind of psychic. I don’t do ghosts, I do the memories we all leave in our wake.” Will looked down at his feet and studied his fraying shoelaces as he continued, “What I have, they don’t really have a specific diagnosis for it, but it’s been just…a part of me for as long as I can remember.” One of Will’s earliest memories was of a pediatrician telling to his father that Will’s  ability to see into people’s secrets was an effect of being on the spectrum. “I have a transcendent capacity for empathy, as one priest put it. A neurologist told me it was a mirroring neuron disorder.”

“Have you had your psych evaluation done?” asked Alana.

“Yeah, twice actually. Once when I joined the force, once when I became a homicide detective. Passed with flying colors both times.” Even if he had to lie on a couple of questions and read his evaluator to know what words to say, he still passed the test. Will glanced towards Hannibal who stood silently beside Will with a knowing glint in his eyes. He was glad Hannibal didn’t administer his psychiatric evaluations. He would probably fail him on all counts. Or pass him just to see where it would lead.

 “While this is fascinating, I don’t exactly see how this all translates to your collapse,” said Crawford.

“When I read crime scenes, I have to open myself up to it all to empathize with the killer. Sometimes I open myself up too much and lose track of things. That’s what happened this time. There are a lot of moving parts here and my mind became overwhelmed as it stitched them all together. Something had to go and consciousness was it.”

 “Alright,” said Crawford dropping his arms to his sides. “What did you see when you opened yourself up this time?”

“This isn’t the same killer. It’s a copycat who is sending a message.”

“What makes you say that?” asked Beverly.

“For one, it’s the presence of a male beta instead of a female omega like all of our killer’s victims. The copycat’s difference in genders highlights the importance of gender in the deaths of the other victims. For our killer, his kills are motivated, explained, and justified by gender. This view is further reinforced by the victim having a surgical would in his abdomen, but his genitals remain untouched. I am almost positive a surgical trophy has been taken, most likely the liver, but maybe the kidneys. By ignoring his reproductive organs while still taking a surgical trophy, the copycat highlights the importance of taking the uterus of the omegas for our serial killer.  He is punishing omegas by taking away what he sees as their only source of power, their sex, when they are not using it to fulfill his expectations of omegas, namely that they be constantly pregnant or poised to become pregnant.”

“Your gift makes you quite adept at reading Shadow Theater, even when it is performed in the field,” said Hannibal. “What else is he saying Will?” Hannibal’s face suddenly seemed so close, his red eyes clear and direct. Will felt himself long to give into his penetrating gaze and offer up the words Hannibal so desired to hear.

“He is saying our killer’s motive runs deep into his being. It’s bigger than him even. It’s likely our killer is from an old money family – the kind that still holds courtship balls and doesn’t let their omegas leave the house unchaperoned. And he can’t stand that things have started to change for omegas. He’s telling is to read our killer’s messge.”  

“And what is that?” Will felt like it was just he and Hannibal existing alone together on a plain touching souls, the specifics of their conditions falling away, until it was only two faces staring into each other, one possessing the one thing the other so desired.

“He isn’t going to stop. Not until the whole world changes. Not until he makes it into his vision of the way things should be. He feels called to do this work. I mean, he believes that he is fixing something shattered by society allowing omegas do more than breed.”

“So who is this second killer then?” asked Crawford, collapsing the connection between Will and Hannibal.

 “We’re never going to find him. Look at how perfectly composed this scene is, it is practically a giftwrapped diorama of death. He’s too good, too experienced. He’s killed many times before and will go on to kill many times, but never this way again.”

“He took the liver as a surgical trophy,” said Beverly. “How many killers do that?”

“Only those of select pathology,” said Hannibal. The group fell silent for a moment in consideration of the possibilities.

“It’s likely already gone,” said Will.

“Into the bottom of his stomach,” finished Beverly.

“Save the gore for the lab, Beverly,” said Crawford. “Graham, you’re still on the case.”

“Thank you,” Will quickly responded.

“But, you are going to have session with Dr. Lecter until you learn how to control this…condition of yours. You have given us a lot to go on, but you need to learn how to control yourself. I can’t have an agent fainting at the sight of blood. Does that work for both of you?”

“I would be happy to help Will in any way I can,” said Hannibal, “But all therapy must be entered into willingly if it is to be effective. Will, are you truly willing to face what you must?”

“I’ll do it, but I have to warn you that I’m don’t enjoy being psychoanalyzed Dr. Lecter.”

“Excellent,” said Crawford. “Hannibal, take Will home and we’ll go over everything we find on Monday. You’ve given us enough to go on for now.” Blue and red lights flashed between the trees and Crawford turned to walk back towards the road to greet the state forensics team.

 “Hey,” shouted Beverly, “Does this mean that we can leave too?”

“No,” yelled Crawford, “You and Alana are going to be here until every stone on this beach has been processed.” 

Beverly swore under her breath. “Graham, you better take a good deal when you see one. Get the fuck off this beach before I strangle you.” She snapped on a pair of latex gloves and started waving at him with her hands. “Shoo. Get. Move it.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’m going.”

Beverly softened her gaze. “Honey, I know you would stay and help if you could. Go get some rest. The good doctor and I will be fine wrangling these hinterland investigators into shape.”

* * *

 

For all of his expensive suits and tightly maintained appearance, Hannibal was a glutton of the worst kind, for his ambition to experience the next pleasure left him quickly tired of the pleasure before him.

“Hannibal.” The alpha ran his fingers down the bare skin of Will’s back, making him arch at the sensation. “Please, get inside me. Hannibal, please.”

Hannibal pushed his cruelly hard cock against Will’s wetness, teasing and tempting. “Not yet. Stay like this for me a little longer.”

“Fuck,” said Will as he ground himself against Hannibal trying to get the alpha to reconsider. “You know you want this too.”

“That is why we will wait until it is time,” said Hannibal. Will looked into the alpha’s red eyes and saw his own desire mirrored back. The alpha pulled Will in closer, fingers digging his hands into the lightly muscled flesh of the omega’s shoulders. Hannibal was sitting in the high black leather chair in his apartment’s living room while Will straddled his lap. They had driven straight to Hannibal’s apartment after leaving the crime scene. Hannibal had offered Will a sedative, but Will took a kiss instead.

Will closed the distance between them with a kiss, running the tip of his tongue along the strong line of the alpha’s mouth. Hannibal emitted a deep groan as he moved his hands down to squeeze Will’s ass.

“It could always be like this,” Hannibal whispered into Will’s mouth. The omega responded by gently sucking on the alpha’s earlobe.

Hannibal pulled back just enough to bring Will’s face into clear focus. “Tell me that you want this, Will.”

“I…” said Will, leaning forward for another silencing kiss.

“William.” Hannibal’s hands planted themselves on Will’s face, locking their eyes together. “There is so much already between us. We cannot continue to encourage our bond to grow if you do not want it.”

“What I want is for you to fuck me,” Will growled out.

Hannibal ran his thumb over Will’s bottom lip, gently pulling it down. “That is not what I was asking.” His hand moved down to push a finger inside Will and the omega let out a hiss of pleasure. “I already know you are begging for me to fuck you. But should I do it?”

“Yes,” said Will as Hannibal inserted a second finger and started to open Will up. “I want you so much. You are the only one I’ve ever wanted like this.” The omega let out a choking gasp as Hannibal inserted a third finger.

“Like what?”

“As a mate. Do it Hannibal. Knot me.” The waiting was pure torture. Hannibal seemed to know exactly how to push Will to the edge of his desire where he would do anything to keep the sensation going.

Hannibal quickly pulled out his fingers and finally moved his cock into Will’s hole. Will clutched at the alpha’s strong arms, afraid of Hannibal pulling out as much as falling backwards.

“Trust me, William. You must let yourself go and let me hold you if this is to succeed.” He pulled the omega closer to him. Will buried his face for a moment in the crook of the Hannibal’s neck, breathing in his rich musk.

Will pulled back and screamed out in pleasure as Hannibal’s knot swelled inside him. He expertly moved his thick cock inside Will, rolling upwards into each clenching waves of the omega’s orgasm.

“Hannibal, Hannibal, Hannibal,” Will chanted as he rode on the waves of pleasure Hannibal tore from him.

“Oh my sweet William,” said Hannibal as the omega collapsed on his chest. Will was quickly fading from consciousness as he felt Hannibal lift him up and carry him into the bedroom. “How fortunate it is that I found you first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry for the long break in between chapters. My life is a little crazy right now, but really good at the same time :)  
> I hoped you liked this chapter, and I will try to get on a more consistent posting schedule from here on out. Thank you to everyone who has kept reading and leaving comments/kudos. You guys are great!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will have a therapy session Freud would be proud of.

A young woman dressed in a blue sheath dress with a red scarf around her neck flung the large steel door open and strutted out into the twilight. Will fingertips caught the door just before it clicked shut and he darted inside the building. Walking past the elevator, he opened the small stairwell door and started to climb. His footfalls were the only sound in the cavernous space and their metallic shudder reverberated throughout the space. The fluorescent lights mounted on the wall seemed to be strategically placed to illuminate the smallest space possible without making totally impossible to see. Will could feel his heart speed up and forced himself just to look at the next stair. He didn’t need to check his corners. There was no reason to be afraid. He was just going to see Hannibal.

And yet, he could not tell himself that he was unafraid of the alpha. Will knew his position was precarious, to say the least. After the incident at the lake, it was obvious that he was on thin ice with Crawford. There was little recourse for him to keep his badge, let alone his newfound place with the FBI, if Hannibal didn’t tell Crawford that he was making steady progress towards controlling his so-called empathy disorder. Even then, Hannibal could still turn Will in for lying by omission about being a beta.

He tried to push the discomforting thoughts about his hazardous position away as he opened a door and started to walk down the softly lit hallway towards Hannibal’s apartment. It felt strange to be walking on the plush crimson carpet alone. He sensed the ghost of Hannibal’s hand on his lower back gently maneuvering him forward.  It was a definite possibility that Will would never feel truly alone again and he already missed his default state of solitude.

 Growing up, he’d ached for the peace of isolation. His inability to protect himself from the onslaught of humanity made him hate leaving his bedroom. The thoughts, feelings and desires of others had only gotten louder after he presented as an omega, but he had been empathic his whole life. Playing a game of tag with the other five-year-olds made him feel as if he was drowning in the sorrows and triumphs of man. His father had been the first to teach him how to put up some boundaries between his head and the outside world in an effort to get Will to interact more with his peers, though he wasn’t exactly one to teach by example.

 “Will, you can’t let this stop you from living your life,” his father told him one stifling summer day when Will was about twelve and had declined an offer to go to the community pool in favor of staying in his bedroom with air so thick not even horseflies buzzed their wings.

“It’s just who I am, dad. I can’t control it.”

“That’s a crock of shit and you know it. Now put on your trunks and get in the car.”

“But dad,” Will whined, “I don’t want to.”

“You really want to stay in this pressure cooker of a house?” his dad asked. Beads of sweat had formed across his brow and he reached into his back pocket for the red handkerchief he always kept there.

“Not really.”

“And you’re sure you don’t want to go for a swim?”

“Not if there're going to be other people around.”

Will’s dad wiped the handkerchief across his brow and let out a long breath. “Alright. I won’t make you go to a public pool and interact with plebes. But we’re getting out of the house. Get dressed and meet me in the truck in ten minutes.”  

Neither of them got even a nibble on the line, but Will remembered it as one of their best fishing trips. The feeling of standing in the middle of the river with the water pushing gently against his calves, the sunlight turning the muddy waters into shimmering waves of gold, the snap of the fishing line as it flew through the air and the gentle pop when the fly hit the water, it was a day marked by the beauty of the earth. Being out on the river made him feel full inside his body and not just a mind plopped into a blob of flesh. On the way home, they pulled over to the side of the road where an old woman in a straw had was selling buckets of strawberries. They tasted like summer.

“Define who you are, Will, or the world will do it for you.”

How will I ever find the way back to myself, Will wondered as he reached Hannibal’s door, if my edges are defined by where Hannibal begins?

He tapped three short raps on the Hannibal’s black door and waited. He studied the backs of his hands, their queer mix of feminine and masculine, supple translucent skin stretched over long, straight fingers. They looked nothing like Hannibal’s hands. His were broad and strong enough to pick Will up and throw him on the bed, yet dexterous enough to find the small spot deep inside him that made his toes curl and stars appear behind his eyes.  

Last night, he and Hannibal lay facing each other in the hazy space created between orgasm’s release and sleep’s embrace. Will brought his hands up to his chest, palms facing outwards towards Hannibal. Without prompting, the alpha placed his larger hands flat against Will’s, creating a dark halo of flesh around the omega’s smaller hands. As they drifted asleep, Will dreamed of a thin blue pane of glass separating him from Hannibal. Pressing against the cold barrier to get to the warm body of his alpha, Will felt a spider web of cracks from beneath his fingertips. After a moment of almost unbearable pressure, the glass between them shattered and he fell through a hole in the universe. Will opened his eyes in the darkness to see something great and terrible, impossible and familiar waiting for him there. The form that was and was not Hannibal opened from stem to stern and swallowed Will whole.

 “William,” said Hannibal as he opened the door. “I’m glad to see you made it. I was worried you had forgotten our meeting when I did not get a call to let you in.” The alpha placed his hand on Will’s lower back and guided him towards the living room. He gestured for Will to sit on the couch while he took up residence in the tall black chair.

“Just slipped in behind someone,” said Will, “I didn’t want to bother you. I’m taking up enough time as is.”

 “This building’s security system leaves much to be desired,” said Hannibal through pursed lips. “But you must know that I am always happy to see you at my door. I want you here with me.”

“Right. Thanks. Sorry.” The alpha’s words made something jump inside Will. He avoided Hannibal’s gaze by studying the stitching on the seat cushions. It was disconcerting to be sitting with his therapist in the room where he and his alpha had been fucking only hours ago. “So how is this going to go down?”

Hannibal seemed bemused by the question. “Like any other therapy session. I am your doctor and you are my patient. I will ask you some guiding questions and we will see what we find.”

“I know how therapy works, Hannibal,” said Will.

“Well then,” said Hannibal after a beat, “Let us being our first session together. Tell me about your mother.”

“What an original question,” said Will as he picked at imaginary dust bunnies on the couch. “I was expecting a bit more from Baltimore’s most-sought after psychiatrist.” 

“What’s past is prologue,” said Hannibal. “We must confront your past before we can begin to address your present. Parents shape so much of our childhoods and thus our adulthoods, whether we like it or not. You have told me a little about your father, but have said nothing about your mother.”

“Yeah, well, there’s not much to say. She met my dad on Lake Pontchartrain where he was working for the summer fixing rich people’s boats. She was one of the rich people. One thing led to another and I made my grand entrance nine months later.”

“So your mother was an omega?”

“No. My mother was an alpha, my father a beta. It was unlikely that she would get pregnant in the first place and pretty much impossible that I would be a male omega. I guess you could say I was a freak before I was even a thing.”

“Is that what your mother thinks?” asked Hannibal, his eyes darkening into something unreadable.

“Of course she does,” said Will with a laugh that came out more like a choking cough. “I mean, I’ve never had the occasion to ask her outright, but all you really know is that she abandoned me on my third birthday.”

It was his first memory.

He woke up early in eager anticipation of the presents and cake and snuck downstairs to see if birthdays were like Christmas when presents magically appeared overnight. He saw his mother standing on the porch with the door flung wide open behind her, her thick dark curls haloed by the golden sunrise. In the misty spring morning, the world outside their door was a touchable rainbow. Will wanted very much to stand beside his beautiful mother on the wet grass and feel his face warmed by the sun. He scampered across the vinyl floor with a pattering feet towards her and his mother turned to smile at him as she shut the thick white door. His dad found him there two hours later, sitting on the floor waiting to be invited to join her beneath the sun.

Hannibal pursed his lips. “It is quite unusual for an alpha to abandon an omega child.”

“She had about fifty million reasons to do so,” said Will. Slumming it was fun for a while, but the tedium of the everyday had started to get old. “Her parents offered her a nice fat lump sum if she left us and married some inbred omega half-wit. She has six other kids now. All alphas.”

“They must have had very different childhoods from yours.”

“I guess. I don’t know. All things considered, my mom leaving was not the worst thing that could have happened.” Will sighed and felt the distance between the man sitting in front of Hannibal and the angry teenager consumed by anger and confusion. The room seemed to fill with a sea of memory, willing him to give in and be carried back into the past. Fighting the impulse, Will stared into Hannibal’s eyes to anchor himself in the present.

“You are very generous to your mother.”

 Will laughed and shook his head. “Not really. I hated her for a long time and I got a little carried away with it in my teenage years.” During his senior year of high school, Will had visited New Orleans to tour Tulane. He never made it to the college, but he did become well acquainted with the best rose bushes to hide in outside of his mother’s French Quarter home. On the other side of the glass, it seemed as if a stiflingly choreographed dance was being performed. Every movement was mechanic without room for whim.

 “Once I was old enough to understand the world she came from, I realized that I never could have survived in that glittering world of rules and politics and expectations. I would have married young and have at least four kids by now. I mean, when my mom left she couldn’t have known for certain that I would present an omega, but the signs were already there. I want to believe that somehow she knew. It’s nicer to think that she left to protect me from the life that she couldn’t escape.”

“Isn’t it nice to think so,” echoed Hannibal. “Do you believe that you are better off having grown up without a dynamic parent in your home?”

“I don’t see how it would have changed anything,” said Will with a roll of his eyes. “Look, Hannibal, this is not my first therapy rodeo. I know I’m supposed to cry about having my alpha parent abandon me and thank you for making me realize that it fucked me up in dark and twisty ways. Well, thank you, Dr. Lecter for you award-winning insight into my psyche, but I’m fine letting sleeping dog lie.”

Hannibal remained silent as Will’s words hung heavy in the air. The omega focused on twisting his worn flannel shirt between his fingers. The shirt was almost transparent in places from years of use like a young child’s safety blanket kept as a souvenir from babyhood. It was really still too hot to be wearing flannel, but Hannibal always kept his house uncomfortably cool. “You don’t need to go over all this childhood crap with me. We never talk about your childhood. For all I know you came out of the womb wearing those awful three-piece plaid suites.”

 “Point taken,” said Hannibal. “And I will have you know that I came into this world naked just like everyone else. Though,” he said as an afterthought, “I was born with teeth.”

“I would have liked to have seen that,” said Will. He imagined Hannibal as a pudgy baby, the picture of sweet innocence until he opened his mouth.

“I was quite the little beast – weaned more on blood than milk.”

“No wonder you have a taste for offal,” said Will. “Hannibal, all this crap happened so long ago that I can barely remember it. Sometimes I feel like my childhood never happened and I just arrived at adulthood one day. So I guess I’ve left everything that happened go and I’m fine now. You know that I’m just doing this therapy shtick with you to get Crawford off my back and figure out how not to lose my shit when I process a crime scene, right?”

 “Will, have you considered that your inability to ‘not lose your shit’, as you so eloquently put it, might be tied to your experience of abandonment?”

“I don’t think that not having an alpha around when I was growing up made me unstable, Hannibal.”

“Were you ever gentled as a child?” asked Hannibal as he began to undo his cufflinks.

“My dad hugged me, you sexist alpha. Betas love their children too, you know.”

Hannibal shook his head as he stood and took off his jacket. “You are not understanding me. I do not mean hugging. Gentling is very different.”

“I take it therapy is over then,” said Will as Hannibal came over to sit beside him on the couch.

“Only shifting to a different method. Lay on your side with your back against the couch.” Hannibal pulled off his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt.

“A dangerous method.” Will leaned forward to start on Hannibal’s pants, but the alpha stopped him. “Lay down, Will. This is gentling, not sex. It is done when an omega is feeling particularly distressed or simply in need of comfort.”

“So then why are you taking off your shirt?” asked Will. “Seems like we’re blurring some lines here.”

“Skin to skin contact is simply a best practice for ensuring the strongest results,” said Hannibal as he tugged off Will’s shirt. He lay down on the couch beside Will and gathered him into his arms.

“I don’t know if there is enough room for the two of us,” said Will softly into Hannibal’s ear. “I’m feeling a little squished.”

“You are supposed to be ‘a little squished,” said Hannibal. “Being closed in helps your body know that you are safe and surrounded by the protection of your alpha.”

“Sounds like a bunch of brouhaha to me,” said Will even as he felt his heartbeat slow.

“Hush.” Hannibal gently nuzzled Will’s neck. “Close your eyes and breathe deeply. I promise it will help calm your mind.”

Will huffed, but acquiesced. At first, it just felt like he was cuddling with Hannibal on the couch. But soon, Will knew this was something very different from cuddling. His whole body felt warm like he had come inside on a snowy day and wrapped himself in a blanket fresh from the dryer. The sounds of Hannibal’s breath mixed with his heartbeat to create a song of the body. As its melody encircled him, Will felt like he was finally home.

* * *

 

“So what are you going to tell Crawford about me?” asked Will as Hannibal gently traced circles on his back. It had grown dark outside and Hannibal had decided it was time for dinner. Will felt good, empowered even, by his session with Hannibal

“I will tell him that you have already made great strides to control your empathy. As long as I feel that is true, of course.”

“This is so messed up,” said Will. “We shouldn’t be in a romantic relationship and a professional relationship and a doctor-patient relationship at the same time. Too many lines are getting crossed.”

“Of course you are right,” said Hannibal. “I am happy to give you a referral to another FBI psychiatrist.”

“Thanks Hannibal,” said Will. Hannibal rose gracefully and Will attempted to do the same, but the room had started to spin.

“But before we do anything rash,” said Hannibal as he wrapped an arm around Will’s waist to steady him, “Your new psychiatrist would soon know that you are an omega and be compelled by oath to reveal that information to the FBI.”

“Good thing for me you like to bend the rules.” Will inhaled deeply. “So I’m pretty much screwed if I don’t stick with you.”

“I prefer to think that you are uniquely positioned to enjoy all the benefits of being my omega.” Hannibal ran his fingers gently up and down Will’s back.

“I’m not your omega,” said Will weakly. Hannibal pulled him closer and buried his face in Will’s neck.

 “Oh really? Your scent says otherwise.” Hannibal laid a kiss on the tender piece of flesh just behind the ear and Will bit back a groan. “Your body hasn’t forgotten last night, even if your brain has.”

“I’m not officially your omega yet. This is still sexual harassment,” said Will. “I’ll report you.”

“Go ahead, dear Will,” said Hannibal. He released Will from his embrace and smoothed out Will’s threadbare button-down flannel shirt as best he could. “But before you do, I hope for the sake of your career that you consider what will happen if you choose to proceed with your allegations. Your status as an omega will inevitable be made public, as will your failure to disclose your status to your superiors. Can’t you see that I am trying to protect you and let you to keep your job?”

“This is still wrong. Someone will do something about it.” Will felt uncertain about the truth of his words even as he spoke them. “Someone should do something about it.”

“How will things look when it’s your word against mine? I am one of the most trusted names in psychiatry and you are an unmated omega.” Hannibal pulled Will back towards him and kissed him gently on the lips. “Perhaps it was you who tried to seduce me and when I did not reciprocate your feelings, you created this whole messy situation to salvage your pride.”

Will pushed Hannibal away angrily. “Fuck you, you egotistical alpha prick.”

“I will put up with a lot for you, William,” said Hannibal with cool displeasure, “but I will not tolerate rudeness or lying inside my home.”

Will flinched at the words. His body was screaming for him bare his neck for Hannibal and beg for forgiveness. Will gave into the impulse to get back into Hannibal’s good graces, but did so by flinging himself back into Hannibal’s arms. Hannibal opened his mouth wide in surprise and Will took advantage by stealing a deep kiss from the alpha. He tasted like a secret or a sin.

“I fucking hate you,” said Will when the broke apart. “You messed everything up. I was fine being alone. Being alone was the plan. I was fine to just solve murders and go home to my dog and eat Raisin Bran for every meal. That was my life and I was doing fine. Maybe not great, but not this fucked up, unbalanced, uncertain mess that I am now. So, fuck you, Hannibal. Fuck you for making me want more than just survival.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will goes a little crazy, does a research project, has dinner with Hannibal, and goes on a field trip. Fun times.

Will just wanted to go home and be alone with his dog. Not have to speak to anyone, not to have to gauge each reaction, to not have to be constantly judging what the right thing to say or do was. Being around others for so long was like a high pitched ring in his ear, bearable for a while and even unnoticeable at times, but after a while enough to wish himself deaf. Crawford had them in the office from sunup to sundown working on the finding a suspect, all of them staring at laptop screens and picking through the case files in the conference room. Day after day had gone by without progress. By this point, everyone’s frustration hung in the room like the stench of unwashed bodies.

The lack of privacy was made worse by having to spend each day looking at the abdomens of the victims, trying to expose the killer from the way he had excised their sex organs. It was generous to call the wounds surgical; butchery would have been more accurate. The bodies had all been displayed elaborately, beautifully even, but once the veil covering their wounds was lifted, the serene illusion was shattered. The killer had cut deep without knowing exactly where he was going, cutting through bowel and bladder. The stench was what had led to the discovery of one body, drawing out a hermit who thought a deer carcass had been left on his property by rabid dogs. Although the uterus had been removed, the rest of the entrails had been left inside the bodies. Disconnected tubes hung limply like macabre streamers at a birthday party with no guests.

Will had seen many disturbing things during his time with the police: The eighteen-year-old girl married a man three times her age who kept falling down the stairs until the day her head was smashed into the bannister so hard her brains ended up on the wall three feet away. A baby almost killed and forever scarred by the fire his mother started to burn away his wicked soul. The omega father of fourteen dead in pool of his own blood after miscarrying his fifteenth child and being refused medical care because he’d brought it on himself.

All of these surrounded Will like an iron chain left around a tree for so long that wood and metal fused together. But there was something about this current set of victims, young omegas cut down in the prime of their lives just as they were beginning to blossom into themselves, which made Will’s breath catch in his throat.  He spread the photos of the omegas’ sliced up abdomens out on the table before him. They all looked so similar, variations on a theme. Cut a little higher here, a little longer there, this one somehow more savage than the rest. Flesh and blood and bone blurred together into a shuddering echo of life.

“It could have been me.”

There it was. The thought that had been hanging heavy over Will since the first day he saw Jennifer Mitchell’s body. He had pushed it away again and again as they had processed her body, tried to think only of how they were different. But now, looking the photos, he could no longer deny the truth. The corpses laid before him were his sisters. They were killed and mutilated by a man, a crusader, who was proving a point: you will never escape yourself.

“What did you say Will?” Beverly asked without looking up from her screen.

“Nothing.” Will swept the photos into a messy pile and stood so hastily his chair almost fell over. He felt Hannibal’s eyes studying him. “I’m going to take fifteen.”

“Make it ten. Be prepared to brief me on the victims’ surgical wounds when you get back,” Crawford said from the other end of the room. Hannibal rose from his seat and opened the door. He was about to follow Will into the hallway when Alana called out, “Hannibal, could you come take a look at this with me?”

Hannibal looked at Will before he answered. The younger man gave a small nod and started walking down the corridor. “Certainly,” he heard Hannibal say. The thin door clicked shut and Will was finally alone.

He shakily made his through the corridors as if he were walking through a ship being tossed on the waves in a thunderstorm. Bursting out the front doors, he was greeted by the blinding white noonday sun. Trying to escape from the piercing rays, he made his way to the small cluster of oak trees where the property ended and the woods began. As he reached the cooling shade, Will let the sob he had been holding in for what felt like an eternity go. It came out like the how of an animal with its foot caught in a hunter’s trap, high and full of a shocked despair. At the base of the big oak tree, its limbs long and sheltering, he slid down the ground, folding in on himself.

He could feel the stag looking at him with his shimmering eyes and soft mouth. “Sometimes when I look at the photos, I think they are of me. Me, dead and dying, with all of my insides cut out.” Will said. Saying the words out loud gave them power, made them real. The stag bent lower, his antlers almost touching Will’s feet.

“And maybe it is me in the photos. I look at them and I can feel him reach inside me, pulling out my womb. He stuffs me with rocks and pushes me into a black lake. I try to swim, but my belly is so heavy and the water is so cold. I open my mouth and darkness enters me and I die silently screaming.” A high ringing note filled his ears, growing louder and louder until all he could hear was its terrible crystalline noise.

 The stag’s antlers started to grow, encircling Will and lifting him up above the trees and into the sky. It was very dark now. But, oh, how beautiful the stars. They swirled around him like snowflakes, landing on his skin with the gentle pressure of a kiss. He stayed there, a small bundle of human, rocked by the gentle turning of the earth.

* * *

 

“Will?”

He jerked his head up to see Alana standing a few feet away. She took a hesitant step forward then stopped. “You’ve been gone almost an hour.”

“Sorry.” Will got up and brushed the dirt from his jeans. He shook his head to push away the feeling of being awoken by a terrifying dream he couldn’t quite remember. “Sorry. I lost track of time.”

“You didn’t really miss anything. We’re just went over all the cases again, stating the obvious.” Alana looked over at Will as they made their way back to the building. “I had half a mind to follow you when you left. It’s too much, looking at those pictures of dead omegas day-in and day-out without getting any closer to figuring out who did it. It’s depressing. And exhausting.”

Will refused to look at Alana and started walking back towards the building. “So you heard me then?”

“I didn’t hear you say anything.” Will felt Alana’s gazing at the back of his head. “But I see you, Will.”

He stopped abruptly and turned around to face her. Will’s eyes bore into Alana’s, daring her to cut into him with the knife of truth. “Is there something you want to ask me?”

The question sat still and heavy in the humid late summer air. Alana stepped in closer to Will and opened her mouth. She was so close to saying it, so close to asking the question that would tie all the pieces of Will together into a recognizable form. But, in the end, decorum won out against confrontation. “Are you okay Will?”

The tension between them relented, but the space between them was wider than before. “Yeah, I’m okay. These long hours are just getting to me.”

She let out a small breath. “Does Crawford know?”

“I think he knows staying here for fifteen hours a day isn’t healthy nor is it helping us solve the case any faster.”

“I’m feeling a little worn out too. I’ve been talking with Beverly about raising an insurrection and tracking down some new leads if we haven’t got anywhere by the time we leave today. ”

“I’d support you if you did,” said Will as they resumed their climb up the concrete stairs leading to the station.

Alana paused at the front doors, her hand resting on the silver handle. “Will, I don’t mean to come off as rude, but I don’t know if you should stay on the case.”

“I’m not made of glass, Alana. Being a little unnerved by brutal murders is not abnormal. Probably a sign of a well-functioning psyche, actually.”

She shook her head as he spoke. “I can tell that you are getting too enmeshed in these murders. And if I can tell that, you better believe that Hannibal can too. He’s the most observant person I’ve ever known. I’m surprised he hasn’t already recommended you be taken off the case.”

“Hannibal may be my psychiatrist and my boss,” said Will, “but he doesn’t get to decide how I feel. I’m staying on this case until it is solved.” He opened the door and walked inside. Alana followed silently.

“Will,” Crawford said when they got back to the war room, “Thank you for hurrying back.”

“It won’t happen again,” said Will, sliding into a seat next to Hannibal.

“That’s what you keep telling me.” Crawford leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands together. “So now that you’ve had some time to think about it, what do we need to do to find this guy?”

“The evidence tells us that he has killed before and likely went through a learning curve before getting to a level where he has enough restraint to set up these scenes and enough experience not to leave any major clues behind. We haven’t even begun to look at cold cases with similar circumstances. That’s where I would start.” said Will.

“I agree that looking through cold cases would be useful, but it’s a time consuming proposal. Maybe one cold case in a thousand is ever helpful in profiling a killer,” said Crawford. “Finding a useful cold case takes weeks, even months, of shifting through files and evidence. We’re better off concentrating on the deaths definitively linked to this killer.”

The tips of Will’s ears reddened at Crawford’s dismissal of his suggestion. He nodded and quickly returned to his computer, distracting himself from the watchful eyes of his colleagues by studying Jennifer Mitchell’s mutilated hands for the hundredth time.

“Jack, Will’s right,” said Beverly. “We’ve gone over everything at least five times and need to take a new approach if we’re going to get closer to finding this guy. Fuck, we haven’t even gotten enough on him to come up with a nickname.”

Crawford leaned back in his chair and drew a hand down his face. “Do you have anything else to suggest?”

“The Magpie, for a name,” said Beverly.

“Like the bird?” Alana asked. 

“It is a good choice,” interjected Hannibal. “Magpies are among the most intelligent of all birds and omens of death.”

“Magpie it is,” said Crawford. “Now what do we do about finding him? We’re running out of time.”

“We have gone over everything at the crime scene,” said Alana, “But I don’t think we’ve examined everything that happened to the victims before they were kidnapped thoroughly enough. We know so much about their deaths, but so little about their day to day lives. They were all omegas who decided to not confine themselves to expectations, but what does that mean beyond school and work? How did they survive without an alpha? Who would they have met?”

“Alana is correct,” said Hannibal. “We have spent all of our time focusing on the profile of the killer, but all he has given us is generalities – that he is a misogynistic alpha male with dramatic proclivities. It is clear he has taken his time in choosing his victims and by looking closer at his victims we should be able to get closer to the killer.”   

“Alright.” Crawford stood and leaned over the table. He looked powerful and exhausted at the same time. “We’ll get started on this new approach tomorrow. Beverly and Alana, I want the two of you to visit with the family and friends of the victims. See if they can give you any additional insights on the lives of these girls. And Will?”

“Yes?”

“If you really want to start researching cold cases, it is fine with me if you do so. Who knows? You just might find something important trapped in the basement.”

And that is how Will found himself spending the next week alone in the basement surrounded by unfinished stories. In that cold room, the thread of time unspooled, its beginning and ending winding together into an impenetrable ball.  The false blue light emitted from the long halogen lamps hanging from the ceiling accentuated ugliest aspects of everything in the room. Will knew that if he could see himself, his eyes would be smudged by deep black circles, face needing a shave, chapped lips close to cracking. He needed to find something soon.

With a sigh, he pulled a box labeled “Diana Patterson, 2000” down from the shelf and brought it over to the small table in the corner where several other boxes sat amongst piles of paper. It wasn’t really that bad, Will though as he scanned through the files for anything useful. Nice even, to have a moment to himself down in evidence storage after the past weeks in the conference room torture chamber. Propping his feet on a folding chair, he flipped open the first case report and began scanning the yellowing document.  

Diana Patterson, a twenty-seven year old omega female architect at Grady Williams Hoyt, failed to come into work after taking time off for her heat. This was not entirely unexpected, as she was preparing to bond with an alpha. But when her fiancé called her boss to inquire if they she heard from her, concern was aroused. Three weeks later, Patterson was found chained to the wall of a primitive cabin in Chippewa National Forest by hikers.

Flicking through the file to see if there was any other useful information before discarding it, a loose pink slip of paper fell out. After scanning its contents, Will shoved the note in his back pocket and got up to retrieve another box.  

* * *

 

The Faure Requiem was playing in the background as Hannibal rubbed a mixture of olive oil, rosemary and orange zest over the pink cuts of meat. “What are you making?” asked Will from his perch on the counter.

“Pan seared tenderloin with a rosemary balsamic and orange sauce,” answered Hannibal, neatly placing the meat on a plate to rest. “Served over a bed of asparagus. It is more of a spring recipe, but this cut of meat presented itself so readily I really had no choice.” Hannibal gently pulled Will to stand at the sink and handed him a bunch of asparagus. “Break off the bottoms, then place the stalks in the steamer basket.”

“I thought you said the butcher you went to last week was, and I quote, ‘criminally unhelpful.’” Will said as he chucked the woody bits of stalk into the trash.

“And quite rude. But all that is taken care of now.” Hannibal turned one of the burners of the gas stove on and the long blue flames shot upwards like a wave before being tamed by a large black skillet. He deftly maneuvered the tenderloins into the pan and closed his eyes as they started to sizzle. “One must learn to enjoy the little pleasures in life.”

Thirty minutes later, the two sat at Hannibal’s long dining room table in front of plates of perfectly cooked meat placed on a bed of crisp asparagus. “Bon apatite,” said Hannibal, raising his glass of chardonnay.

“Bon apatite.” Will gently clinked his glass against Hannibal’s and taking a swallow of the golden liquid. He watched Hannibal take his first bite of the meal, his face relaxing into a moment of animal pleasure as he chewed. Will took a bite from his own plate and tried to think about what he was eating. Raised on pizza and rotisserie chickens, he had never been one to consider food as anything more than a necessary inconvenience.

“I’ve never eaten anything quite like this before,” said Will. “I can taste the rosemary, orange, salt, but I know there is something else there that I can't quite identify.”

“I’d be surprised if you could place it,” said Hannibal, eying the skewered cube of meat on his fork. “You are tasting bliss. Most animals go to their death terrified and alone, which leaves their flesh stinking of fear. The key is to kill when he is in such a state of ecstatic happiness, he believes that this would not be such a bad moment to die.”

Will eyed his plate. “And you found a butcher that could do that in Minnesota?”

Hannibal gave Will a secret smile. “I’m sure there is one hiding out somewhere in this state, but no one has managed to find him yet. Still, I was able to hunt down what I needed to satisfy my craving for fresh meat.”

“That sounds like a lot of effort for one meal.”

“One meal can make all the difference,” mused Hannibal. “One dinner, one mutual acquaintance, one night at the ballet. Our lives are lived in the cacophony of happenstance, but when we pause and listen back, we are surprised to discover the sustained thrumming tying each riff and chorus together into the song of ourselves.”  

Will didn’t say anything in response. He pushed the last of his meal around and around the white china plate, not sure if he could swallow it.

Hannibal reached out a long arm and stabbed the piece of meat with his own fork. He brought the morsel to his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Do you know why the simplest dishes are often the hardest to prepare?”

“No,” said Will, slightly perturbed by Hannibal stealing food off his plate without asking.

“The concealing layers of theatrics, secret ingredients, and atmospheric tinge are cut away.  The truth of the thing is left naked for all to see. Preparing a simple dish reveals your skills and sins, talents and shortcomings. In this life, the only comparable act of personal revelation is making love.” Hannibal neatly folded his damask napkin into a square and placed it atop his empty plate. “And killing, of course.”

Will twisted his napkin between his fingers. “Of course.” He drained the last of his wine and tilted the glass around, looking through it at the warped world. “Do you intend to kill me, Dr. Lecter?”  

“The world is more interesting with you in it,” said Hannibal. He touched Will on the shoulder and the younger man rose to meet him.

“Perhaps the petite mort then.” Will had scarcely spoken the words before Hannibal kissed him like him like he was an unexpected gift that might be taken away at any minute; first exploring with a whispering touch, then a deep claiming nip of Will's lower lip, and finally the with savage crush of finding a mirrored desire. The alpha drew his fingers through Will’s hair and caressed his face, but neglected to move further down the omega’s body. Will felt himself grow bold with desire and impatience with Hannibal’s laser focus on his upper body. As Hannibal broke away for a gasp of air, Will took a step back and started to strip. “Give me a little taste of death.”  

Hannibal lifted a naked Will onto the dark wood table and nuzzled his neck. He started making his way down Will’s chest, a self-satisfied smile playing at his lips as he elicited little groans and exhalations of pleasure. A hand dipped down to the omega’s sex, alternately pulling at his penis and slipping fingers between wet folds. Hannibal pushed Will down on the table, sending plates and glasses and silverware clattering to the floor. Kneeling between the omega’s thighs, Hannibal went to work sucking, licking, and stroking until his mouth was filled with Will.

* * *

 

Will looked down at the scrap of paper in his hand and back up at the house to make sure he had the right address. It was a large house, made of dark red brick with white shutters over every window and a glossy black door. The property was spacious and backed onto thick woodland while the front lawn was immaculately maintained. Assuring himself that he was at the right place, Will got out of his car and climbed up the front steps. He knocked at the door and it was soon opened by a tall woman with soft black curls. Her sharp blue-grey eyes quickly took in the young man standing on her doorstep.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“I’m Special Agent Will Graham,” he said, flashing his badge at her. “And I found this address in connection to a Diana Patterson. I was wondering if you might have any information on her.”

“I haven’t talked about Diana Patterson in a long time,” she said, her hands resting protectively on her hugely pregnant belly.

“I understand. I apologize for any inconvenience or pain I may have caused.”

“ – but I used to be her.” She sighed and opened the door wide. “And it’s time to stop hiding.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks to everyone who has read, left kudos, and commented on this fic. It is great motivation to keep writing.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will chats with Diana about her life. Tea is present. Time blurs.

Diana led Will deep into the house, past the crisp white living room where the only color was provided by a massive painting of a peeled open flower’s fleshy red heart. As they walked through the corridor, Will had the unnerving sensation of having been in her house before. He knew without being told that they were headed towards the kitchen and that it would be tastefully done in white and walled by floor to ceiling windows looking out onto the forested grounds.

“These kinds of conversations always call for tea, don’t you think?” She said as they entered the bright kitchen. She filled a blue kettle with water and placed it on the gas stove, turning the flames up so high they licked precariously close to her fingers.

“Tea can be comforting,” said Will, sitting at the kitchen island and tracing an invisible pattern on the white granite counter as he took in his surroundings. It was the image in his mind made real. Everything tasteful, everything praiseworthy, everything anonymous. He could source and name every piece of the room – from the stool he was sitting on to the knobs on the cabinets. It was unsettling to be inside an antiseptic showroom rather than the busiest room of a bustling family’s home. “You have a very beautiful house.”

“Do you watch a lot of home design television?” She retrieved two white teacups with silver rims from a cabinet beside the stove. “I have Earl grey, orange blossom, or green. Which would you like?”

“Orange, please. And I watch more interior design television than I would like to admit.” It was one of the few things he could stand to watch. The stakes were high enough to keep him interested – will they go over budget, is this remodel going to lead to divorce, which shade of grey is meant for the bedroom – but the content was ultimately dull enough to lull him after a long day at work.

“You know those dream houses the network gives away every year? I watched a TV special about one on a night. My son Max had a miserable ear infection from living in the pool and neither of us was getting any sleep that night. The house seemed so nice, with all that space for the kids to run around and explore. It was so different from where we were living at the time.”

“Where was that?”

“Los Angeles. Pasadena, to be more specific.” Will could picture it. A nice mid-century up in the hills, needed a couple of updates but had solid bones. Magenta bougainvillea encircled the property in a protective circle. It always seemed to be sunrise or sunset, the yellow light gilding everything with gold. 

In the parched heat of the summer, black smoke billowed on the ridge. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. You set the memories on fire, reducing them to ashes with no power to hurt you. The world becomes quite for a while. You begin to gently lower yourself back into the stream of life. But then the winter wind blows in your face and you are left choking on all the things you tried to destroy.

The saucer and teacup clicked on the counter, hurtling Will back into the present. In the hot water, clouds of persimmon bloomed and collapsed into light tangerine. He picked up the cup knocked the tea back, scalding his tongue. 

“I put in an entry and forgot all about it until someone was knocking on my door to tell me I’d won the house.” She sat down next to him, stirring a cube of sugar into her cup. “It seems so crazy. That out of all those thousands of entries, my one-off, sleep-deprived, whim submission won. And that the house would end up being in the place I through I left for good. That’s probably how you found me. My maiden name is on all the title and tax documents for this place. Someone must have put it in my file as a forwarding address.”

“Strange how our past seems to creep into our present,” said Will. He took a more cautious sip of his tea, blowing on it until it cooled to a palatable level. “Are you ready to talk about…about…”

“Ready to talk about that one time I was kidnapped and chained to the wall of a cabin?” she asked, her tone humorous even as she wrapped her arms protectively around herself. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to talk about it.”

She turned her face away from him to look out the large window, her profile illuminated in the morning light. She was a picture of the omegan ideal – delicate, refined, untouchable. “From the moment I saw you get out of your car, I knew what you wanted to talk to me about. I wouldn’t have invited you in if I wasn’t willing to talk. I’m just not sure where to begin. And you can call me Diana. I never was a Mrs. Patterson anyways, just miss. ”

“Right,” said Will, pushing his glasses up on his nose and straightening his shirt. He didn’t want to push her too hard, but there was something about her case that nagged at him. It wasn’t really even a hunch yet, just an inexplicable suspicion, but it was strong enough to make him drive three hours to see about a shaky lead. “Maybe just say whatever you need to say to me. I don’t know if you’ve watched a lot of the news recently, but several girls have been kidnapped and killed in circumstances very similar to your kidnapping ten years ago.”  

She circled the rim of her cup with an index finger. “Is this a police interrogation or a therapy session?”

“Just a conversation.” Will was silent for a beat, an image of Hannibal after one of their talks flashing before his eyes. “You should know that I would be the first to refuse to talk about the darkest parts of my life with a stranger. I wouldn’t ask you to talk about what happened if I didn’t truly believe that you have the information we need to catch this guy.”

“Right.” She twisted her wedding ring around her finger, the large diamond appearing then disappearing beneath her fingers. “Okay.”

“The strange thing is,” she said, “I feel like in every possible version of my life, I always wind up in that cabin.” She fell silent again, twisting her ring faster and faster. Impulsively, Will reached out and touched her gently on the wrist. Her hands stilled and she sighed like there was not enough air in the world. “Or somewhere like it. It was so familiar to me, when I was in there, like something from a recurring nightmare.  For a long time afterwards, I told myself it was my punishment for reaching too far, for pushing against the chains of my birth.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I was born out of wedlock to my mother when she was eighteen. I never knew my sire, though from what I gathered from my mother, she was considerably older and married. My mom always had to work and we moved around a lot.”

“Always the new girl at school. Always the stranger.” He remembered himself standing alone in a hallway with thousands of students streaming around him.

“Always different. Always poor. Everyone thinks that all omegas marry rich alphas, affluent betas if we must, and stay at home to take care of the children. But we know that’s not true, don’t we?” She looked up at Will, searching for confirmation and finding it. 

“We know how the world really runs,” she continued. She took a deep drink of her tea and sat her cup down with a harsh clatter.  “Alphas control the means of production and betas carry out their bidding. Omegas are the invisible glue holding everything together, making the world turn though our unpaid or grossly underpaid labor. When we do work outside the home, it’s usually work deemed appropriate for our sex – caring for children and the elderly, preparing food, cleaning.”

“The alphas say anyone could do that work, so why should omegas be paid a decent wage for it? It doesn’t take any special skills to calm a baby or wax a floor, they say. And if the money really became an issue, we could just lure in an alpha or beta with our sticky sweet sex to take care of us. That’s why we go into heat, right?”

Will felt something inside him clench tight and burn at the truth of her words. “You’ve clearly thought a lot about this.”

“Sorry if this isn’t exactly what you came here to hear.” She laughed and shook her head. “And I know I can come off as overly passionate on the subject. I’ve had a lot of time to think about being an omega and don’t speak frankly about its difficulties very often. Now that I’ve got a captive audience, I’m unloading on you a bit. ”

“Passion is good,” said Will. “Gets the blood pumping. And I came here to hear you tell your story. You don’t need to censor yourself with me.”

“Well in that case, brace yourself.” She laughed again and drained her cup. “We always lived paycheck to paycheck, my mother bouncing between one unreliable, low-paid job to another. She never seemed to be single though, until the very end of her life. When I was young, she was always the girlfriend of some artist or entrepreneur spent all their time laying on our couch, smoking and talking about how great things were going to be once they got their big break. Any actual work, however, was always reserved for a later day that never seemed to come.”

“I take it you didn’t form very favorable opinions of alphas,” said Will.

“I knew I never wanted to be shackled to one. I also never wanted to be a waitress or office cleaner or daycare worker like my mother. Education was my way out.” She got up and filled her empty cup with more hot water from the kettle. “I don’t want it to sound like I looked down on my mother or like I blame her for the difficult parts of my childhood. Those hard times are what made it possible for me to survive after the cabin. She showed me how to keep going through despair, how to cling to every little bit of good life offers. She gave me art, always encouraging me to draw and spending the little extra money she had on supplies for me.”

“It seems like art has been very important in your life,” said Will thinking of her position as a partner at an architecture firm. 

“Unimaginably so. I won an art scholarship to board at Beckenshire Art and Science Prep all through high school. They had just changed the admission rules the year before I started to allow omegas in, a demonstration of the school’s progressive ideals. I was one of only three omegas in the entire school. The other two were there more for socializing than schooling. They seemed resigned to their fate of early marriage and popping out baby after baby until their bodies broke down. I used to get so angry at them for being given so much and just throwing it away.” 

He remembered the omegas at his public high schools, crowding around the dimly lit bathroom sinks checking their hair, gliding into class five, ten, fifteen minutes late without reprimand, dating senior alphas as freshman and college alphas as seniors. “I take it you weren’t friends.”

“No, that’s not what I meant at all.” She noticed Will’s empty cup and refilled it with steaming water. “They were my best friends. That’s why I was so angry at them. They always shrugged me off when I tried to get them to apply to college, even while they cheered me on. And they protected me.”

“The way that only other omegas can,” said Will. While he never would have been considered popular in high school, at every school he attended the small pack of omegas folded him in without question or permission. They were his team, both by choice and by fate. And as a team, they took care of one another in little and big ways – scent blockers quietly handed off in the hallway, leaving a seat open at the lunch table, never leaving another alone in a room full of alphas.

“Exactly,” she said, their eyes locking together. “For all its stresses, high school was a pretty good time. It was the last time I was consistently alone with other omegas. I was the only omega in my undergraduate and graduate programs, then the only omega at my job. And it was always different after high school whenever I met with my old friends.”

“They were married and having babies, you were getting degrees and working. It changes your relationship when you aren’t having shared experiences anymore.”

“Yeah. And after the cabin, I just couldn’t stand it anymore, being showered in their pity without getting a chance to speak. Everybody likes to talk about damaged goods, but nobody wants to listen to them.” She got up and walked towards the windows. It was a rainy day, the clouds hanging low and misty across the grounds. The trees disappeared into the fog like secrets taken to the grave. Will moved to stand beside her, touching his fingertips to the glass to see if it would shatter at the slightest touch.

“It was such a good day, until it wasn’t,” she said staring straight into the woods. “It was the day after my heat, the first one I spent with my now-husband after years of using anonymous surrogates. Have you ever shared a heat with someone you love?”

“No. I’ve never considered that a possibility for me,” he said. The glass held strong beneath his fingers. He thought about what it would be like to share a heat with Hannibal. If he should share a heat with Hannibal.

“I hope you get to. All the stories about heats being these magical conjoinings of flesh and minds seem so ridiculous, but then it happens to you. Suddenly you understand why people are willing to suffer fates worse than death to be with the one they love.” She took his hand in hers and laced their fingers together. “And you feel so powerful afterwards. When you are just getting through a heat, it is all about making you not crazy any more, stopping your body from humiliating and betraying you. But when you spend your heat with your alpha, and you realize your body is perfect. That it has always been perfect and that to be an omega is to be powerful.”

“Our bodies knows what to do. Sharing a heat with an alpha you trust allows you to release your mind and let the body take over.” She let go of his hand and cupped her belly with both hands. “Of course, sharing a heat with an alpha isn’t some magic ingredient necessary to discover this. I think it is possible to realize it on your own. But having someone else with you helps you let go of your mind, to trust in the flesh. It’s somehow easier to love yourself when someone is there loving you too.”

She leaned her forehead against the glass, her breath making a foggy circle appear. “I went to the grocery store. I just needed the essentials. Milk, apples, bread. Oreos because I was happy and wanted them and they were there.”

“I was in the parking lot and he came up to me. He looked terrified and told me his toddler was locked inside his car. I had a cell phone, which was fairly rare in those days, and I handed it over for him to call the fire department.” She closed her eyes. “Foolish, foolish, girl.”

“Turns out the car wasn’t locked at all. He threw me inside and put a damp rag up to my face. I woke up in the dark, naked and chained by my right foot.” Will felt himself drift into her memory. It was so dark out there far from the city lights. The noxious smell of shit and ash filled the cabin. An animal was howling, a shuddering, low, heartbreaking sound. Blood smeared across yellow pine floorboards like a grisly snow angel.

“After the terror of those first hours was over, I tried to escape. I lost all my fingernails tearing at the floorboards, pulled so hard at the chain it cut me to the bone.” She lifted up her pant leg to showed Will the scar, a ring of puffy white flesh like a brand around her ankle.

The silhouette of an alpha filled the doorway. “He came back the next evening. And the evening after that. And the evening after that. He came back and forced water down my throat and food into my mouth and then raped me. Every time, exactly the same. He explained to me that I was a danger to society and that meant I needed to be removed from the general population. He would rant about me being one of those omega bitches who just takes and takes and takes. Every time he left, he would tell me maybe I’ll kill you tomorrow or maybe I’ll just let you starve, either is kinder than you deserve.”

She turned to face Will, her face tight with all the unsayable things. “If the guy who kidnapped me is the one killing these girls, it wouldn’t surprise me. He didn’t keep me alive out of any kind of sentiment. I think he just didn’t know what to do to me to send the right message.”

“You were rescued before he could figure out how he wanted to stage your body,” said Will.

“Yes, but he still got a consolation prize.” She walked back to the kitchen island and grabbed their teacups to wash. “I never got back the life I had worked so hard to build for myself. I was so close to having it all, work and independence and a partner who saw me as his equal. I broke up with him. My firm bought out my contract, and no one wanted to a chance by hiring an alphaless, unstable omega. One night a couple of weeks after I came back, I just got in the car and drove. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. I didn’t really know where I was going, just that I needed to chase the sun. I only stopped when I reached the ocean.”  

“I kept waiting for something else terrible to happen to me, kept putting myself in stupid, dangerous situations.” She stopped her washing and leaned over the sink like a heavy weight rested between her shoulders. “But nothing truly bad ever happened. After a while, I felt like I could walk through fire and not burn. All the green bits of myself were gone and I was now a creature of water and stone. I slept on the beach and spent my days swimming in the ocean, just letting the water buoy me up and the surf carry me in and out, in and out.” Walking out into the waves, the tide tugging at ankles, sinking into the sand. Feeling infinite. Feeling insignificant. Red sky over orange water, the sun become a Chinese lantern as it slipped behind the curve of the earth.

“I needed that time, time just to be alone with myself and my thoughts. I realized I couldn’t come back here. Luke, my alpha, asked me if there was a future for us if he moved to LA. I told him I didn’t know and he came anyways. He waited for me to come to him and eventually I did. We got married and I started going by my married name and nobody asked about the cabin ever again.”

“Until me.”

“Until you.”

“I am still that girl who wanted to run far far away. And I did, but somehow I ended up in the exact same place anyways. And it’s nothing like I imagined. Even with my good life, my full and happy life, I dream about what could have been if I could go back and do just one thing different.” She placed the washed and dried teacups back in the cabinet, and one teetered on the ledge before falling down, down, down to smash into a million little pieces. And then it didn't. The cup was safe in Will’s hand, unbroken and unblemished. He put it back in the cabinet and gently shut the door. 

At the front door, Diana grabbed Will's hand and pressed it to her belly. “She likes you. Started kicking right when you pulled up to the house and hasn’t stopped. I know you will catch him." He felt a small ripple beneath his hand, a sensation that was both alien and familiar. "Just don’t let him catch you first.”

* * *

 

The black water lapped at Will’s toes. Sadie was swimming back towards him, a large stick trapped in her mouth. “Stay back if you don’t want to get sprayed.”

Hannibal stopped. The yellow dog gave Will her stick and shook herself dry, sending water spraying in a wide arch around her. He threw the stick down the beach and she ran after it, pebbles scattering beneath her feet.

“A little late to be on the lake,” said the older man, coming to stand beside Will on the beach. It was past ten at night, but everything was illuminated by the bright light of the full moon. Hannibal’s hair shown silver in the moonlight, his face all edges and shadows.

“I don’t know. There are some things you can only see in the dark.” Sadie came back and lay down beside Will, panting and smiling. He gave her a scratch behind her ears and she turned her head upwards in appreciation.

“Certain dark things are to be loved in secret, between the shadow and the soul,” recited Hannibal. He cautiously sat down behind Will, careful not to get too close to the water’s edge. “You went to some dark places today Will.”

 “I go to dark places every day.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, trying to massage away his headache. “But you’re right. And what’s worse is that I know I have to go somewhere darker still tomorrow. I can see him, Hannibal, but I can’t explain what I see. It’s all a dream that makes perfect sense to me but would sound crazy to you.”

Hannibal pulled Will into him and the omega relaxed against his chest, breathing in his coppery scent. “The line between dreams and reality is not so clear-cut as we like to believe. The illogical, the contradictory, the strange often show us the way to truth.”

“I can’t live in a dream though. I need something I know is real to hold onto.” Will picked up a rock and threw it into the lake. It splashed once and sunk down, the ripples curving and breaking apart the reflection of the moon. “I feel like I’m watching myself drown.”

Hannibal kissed the back of Will’s neck. “Then you must learn how to swim.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this fic and left kudos/comments! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, but I know it is pretty different than the rest of this fic. I'm not completely satisfied with how it, but here ya go. 
> 
> If this chapter was totally not your jam, please stick with this fic! Next chapter will feature ample amounts of Hannigram and make major strides towards catching the bad guy. Much love!


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning shenanigans and school tours

The sun slipped behind Will’s eyelids and pried them open to acknowledge the beauty of the dawn. The trees outside his window were gilded in gold as the day touched the dewdrops on their leaves and branches. A blue jay jumped between two trees, sending a cascade of glittering mist trailing behind him. The strange dreams of last night – dreams of water like tar, shadows moving behind trees, black blood on white cotton – were blotted away in the balmy morning. He felt a warm puff of air on the back of his neck and turned his head to study the man lying on his back beside him.

Warmth bloomed inside Will’s belly at the sight. Hannibal was so singular in appearance and being, both mystery and answer.  Will tried to commit to memory the thin line of Hannibal’s nose, the ledges of his cheekbones, the slant of his lips. Their legs were still wound together, Hannibal’s thick with muscle and Will’s long with buried strength. The alpha’s claiming hand was still on Will’s shoulder in the exact spot it had landed last night when their coupling was complete. It was so delicious to be unexpectedly cherished above all others by an alpha like Hannibal.

Outside of his heats, Will had slept with a few casual acquaintances. He learned the hard way that his heats rendered him too vulnerable for casual of partnering. An alpha once told him, “I control my body. My body does not control me.” How wonderful it would be to have that blind sense of power. Being in heat felt like a crazy trip where his mind was pushed outside of his body to make room for the senses. It was terrifying to have control over his body systematically shut down until the tidal wave of heat drowned his fear in desire. Using a sex surrogate still felt stilted and unfamiliar, but it was better than the alternatives. The anonymity within the structure the program provided – screening surrogates for troubling behavior, health checks, and discretion in all things – made heats bearable, if not exactly perfect.

Will turned the idea of this heat being different over in his mind. That first night after the ballet, he intended to melt into memory as soon as he heard the alpha’s breath fall into a steady rhythm. But then he slipped behind Hannibal’s skin and left his marrow there. Their bond would not be complete until they shared Will’s heat together, but it was as if a spell had already been cast by the conjoining of their flesh and sealed with the blood of all those dead omegas.

Will sensed Hannibal was awake even as his body maintained the perfect image of repose. A man with that kind of control over his body was to be feared, for he would always be testing the limits. But Hannibal was also a student of the body, devoted to discovering new ways to be possessed by pleasure. And Will found he wanted to be the possessor. His dick hardened at the thought and the exploratory finger he dipped into himself came back damp with hot slickness.

Propelled by his body’s desire, Will turned sideways and slid between the sheets towards the other man. With his index finger, he traced circles along the thin line of dark hair sprinkled with gray on Hannibal’s lower belly.  Peaking up beneath the white cotton sheet, he saw the alpha’s supple mouth turned upwards with pleasure, though his eyes remained closed.  Determined to elicit a stronger response, Will brought his face down to the man’s flesh. Tongue hard and flat, he made one long, slow lick down velvet skin to Hannibal’s hardening erection.

A rumbling groan escaped from the alpha. Will looked up to see him looking back through hooded eyes. He turned back to the task at hand and popped the head of the alpha’s dick into his mouth, licking the ridges in quick then lazy circles. Hannibal reached down and entwined his fingers in Will’s curls, guiding his movements while not dictating. Will felt his own cock start to beg for release as the deep trembling from Hannibal’s engorged member began.

Abruptly, Will unwrapped his lips and sat back on his heels, eliciting a snarl from the deprived alpha.

“That was very rude,” he said in the low and guttural voice of a creature who had not conversed with another in a long time. He reached down to finish the job himself, but Will swatted the hand away. Hannibal narrowed his eyes into something dark and unreadable, but didn’t say anything more.

“You’re right. I’m a rude, rude boy,” said Will as he swung a leg over to straddle Hannibal. “But I hope I can give you an acceptable apology.” With one hand he opened himself up and with the other he guided Hannibal into him. The alpha’s erection grew impossibly harder within him, bringing Will to sputter clear omega cum on Hannibal’s abdomen. Through the haze of his first orgasm, he saw the older man wipe his fingers in the glistening slick and bring them up to his mouth to taste. Hannibal’s eyes closed for a moment in delighted repose. Then they snapped open, burning with fantastic determination.

Hannibal sat up and closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in a bruising kiss. Both of their mouths were sour and fuzzy in the morning, but neither moved to break away. The immediacy of lips and tongues and teeth was too necessary to abandon. Will leaned forward, wrapping his legs around Hannibal to push the alpha's cock further into his heat. Hannibal rolled over to switch their positions: Will now down on his back with his legs wrapped around the alpha, and Hannibal’s long muscular body stretched out on top of Will. He thrust into the omega’s hole, at first slow, long and deep burying his member to the hilt then rapidly increasing staccato bursts that left Will gazing up in wonder at Hannibal’s speed and stamina. With each touch of Hannibal’s cock against the bundle of sensation tucked deep inside, Will felt his pleasure build until it threatened to overflow.

Hannibal let out a roar as he orgasmed, a vocal declaration of the power and vitality of his hot seed streaming into Will. The walls of Will’s cunt tightened and relaxed in response, recognizing this valuable opportunity and milking the alpha’s cock for all it could give. Will and Hannibal locked eyes to see and be seen. The stream of cum from Hannibal gradually stopped and left Will on the precipice of his second orgasm, the shattering one that came from deep inside himself. Using the strength in his thighs, he flipped a compliant Hannibal onto his back and hungrily ground into the alpha until an orgasm radiating from his core out to the tips of his toes spilled out. Will collapsed onto the bed beside Hannibal and they basked in the afterglow.

“So,” said Will after a few minutes, “apology accepted?”

Hannibal leaned over and placed an anointing kiss on Will’s forehead. “Always.”  He got out of bed and stretched out the muscles in his neck and shoulders. “As much as I’d like to continue this in the shower, I’m afraid we’d be too distracted to wash ourselves clean. How about I go first then prepare breakfast for us?”

“Fine by me,” said Will, grabbing Hannibal’s still warm pillow and pulling it into his arms. “Can you wake me up when you finish?” He had already closed his eyes and felt as if he could sleep for another eight hours.

“Of course.” He bent down to nuzzle the omega in that sweet spot where the neck meets the shoulder and breathed in deeply. Smiling, he gave Will a chaste parting kiss on the lips before walking into the bathroom.

Will floated in the space in between dreams and consciousness. Burying his face into the pillow he was holding, he wished Hannibal was still lying beside him. All the energy he felt upon waking seemed to have drained out of him and he just wanted to sleep. Though, if Hannibal would come back to bed, he could probably be convinced to stay awake for another round. Hannibal was undeniably the best he’d ever had. Moreover, he was the best alpha he’d ever met. Thinking about Hannibal, Will slipped two fingers into himself and bore down. Why was the thick alpha cock that had been inside him so recently gone? A fresh burst of slickness coated his fingers and he wiggled them around, getting himself ready for his alpha to come back and take him. He rubbed his face back and forth on the pillow, covering himself in his alpha’s calming scent.  

Something clicked inside his brain and Will realized what was happening. “Fuck,” he screamed into the pillow, pulling his fingers out of himself so fast slick spattered on the foot board. He chucked the offending pillow across the room. It hit the macramé fish hanging on the wall and it fell down into a crumpled mess of knots and strings.  

The cheerful plinking tone of Will’s cell phone filled the room, and he leaned over to grab it from the bedside table. “Hello?”

“Hello,” said a chipper pre-recorded female voice, “This is the Narra Institute calling to remind you about your upcoming heat. Your surrogate this cycle will be…” There was a click, and a bored male voice said “Gavin.” The line clicked again and the voice switched back to the effulgent female. “He will arrive at your house in seven days’ time at 5:00 PM. If you have any questions or need adjust your service for any reason, please do not hesitate to contact us. Thank you for choosing the Narra Institute for all your unbonded omega needs.”  The line clicked off, but Will couldn’t move. He kept the phone pressed to his ear, trying to hear something in the empty static.

“Anything important?” asked Hannibal from the bathroom doorway, still naked and rubbing a towel against his damp hair.

“Just the dentist reminding me about an appointment.” Will tossed his phone on the bed and walked over to Hannibal.

“Does this happen every three months or so?” asked Hannibal, shifting to block Will from slipping past into the steamy bathroom.

“No, just the regular six month appointments.”

“Very healthy.” Hannibal gave him an aggressively minty kiss. Leaning back, he handed Will the damp towel. “I’ll meet you on the other side.”

Will locked the bathroom door and tossed Hannibal’s towel in the hamper before he could smash his face in the alpha’s scent again. They were so close to finding the Magpie, fighting his heat for another few days seemed like a small sacrifice. Right now, the Magpie was like a man standing across the road on a spectacularly rainy day, almost visible but hidden by happenstance. Will brushed away the steam on the mirror to get a clear look at himself. Flushed cheeks, heady eyes, wet curls. He looked thoroughly ravished and ready for more. The thought made his head pound and he downed some aspirin before stepping into the shower.

He let the cool water run over him and wash away the traces of his time with Hannibal. He needed to be prepared for work today. Alana and Beverly (aided by several analysts back at Quantico) had mapped out the lives of each victim – their family, friends, work, school – going as far back as they could, using the police reports, calls to the families, and publicly available data. They digitally tagged and collated everything into a mass data set, and were just beginning to scratch the surface of what running analysis could tell them.

While the omegas were from diverse geographic locations, different ages, different ethnicities, their personal profiles were very similar. All of them had at least one friend in common. They found a picture from a golden New Year’s Eve party of two of the omegas hugging each other, beaming, raising glasses of champagne to new beginnings. One would be dead in four months, the other in two years. 

* * *

 

 “A castle in Minnesota just isn’t practical,” said Beverly as Beckenshire’s iron gates opened. The red bricks and the slate roof made it look like a Tudor mansion that had been shipped over from England and reassembled brick by brick on this hill in the Minnesota backwoods.  The meticulously combed gravel road snarled and crunched under the tires as they started up the long stretch of private road leading to the school. “I mean, how would you heat the thing?”

“With fireplaces large enough to burn an entire tree trunk at once,” said Hannibal from the front seat. All five of them were traveling together in one of the FBI’s massive black SUVs – Hannibal and Crawford in front, Alana and Beverly in the middle, and Will alone on the far back bench. “My family’s ancestral home has several large enough to lay six full grown alphas in without touching. I kept myself warm and content with them on many a cold night.” 

“And were you the one chopping down those trees and hauling them inside, Count Lecter?” ask Alana. “Or too busy practicing the harpsichord?”

Alana’s knowledge of Hannibal’s childhood made jealousy bubble up in Will, even as he knew it was illogical to be concerned. Hannibal had been her mentor for years, and it was only natural that they would know personal details about each other. Still, when Hannibal looked back at her with his head tilted and lips set in a stern yet amused line, Will had to stare out the window to keep his heart down in his chest.

“When I was a child learning how to play and my plodding fingers could not find the correct notes, not even after my tutor threatened to slice them off bit by bit, my mother would eventually intervene and end the lesson early.  She would take me outside to walk along the edge of the forest for hours until we were both exhausted. And somehow, the next time I sat down on the harpsicord bench, my fingers knew exactly what to do. Of course, as I got older and became stronger physically and artistically, it took more to tire me out. So I began travelling deeper into the woods, to the dark wild places, carrying my axe and searching for a tree suitable to bring home.”

Will could see him, a dark figure standing alone in the snowy woods, face upturned to a silver sky. His fingers curled themselves around the ax, an ancient tool with a modern purpose. He lifted it high and swung, the blade landing with an echoing thunk in the side of a tree. He ripped the blade out and swung again, knowing just how to aim the blade to ensure the deepest wound. With the final swing, the tree let out a crackling groan. As it fell, he turned and looked at Will with glistening onyx eyes. Will forced himself to stare back and study the creature’s naked, charcoal black human body and curved, horn-like antlers.

As the tree fell in slow motion, the creature began to speak. His words were chewed and held in the back of his mouth. They were words of power from a language half-forgotten. “When we have come to the end of our knowledge, when we do not know how to play the shining note or paint the piercing color, it is then we must journey into the woods. In the danger of the wild, there is no room for error. There is no time for thought. To survive, one must submit to the will of the creature lying in wait. The death delivered by the wild being carried in your chest will birth you into a new life. I’ll be waiting for you there.” Will shut his eyes as the words thrummed through his chest. He could feel it all – the snowflakes melting into rivers on his cheeks, the burning black gaze of the beast, the tree’s branches breaking as it hit the ground with a clap like thunder.

Will was jolted back into the car. They had stopped and his colleagues were busy unfastening their seatbelts and opening doors, their motions easy and unfazed. Strange visions were not uncommon before a heat, but also signaled that an omega should be safely resting in preparation for a very powerful cycle. Will reached into his pocket to reassure himself that his small, unmarked white pill box filled hormone suppressants was still there. While not technically illegal, suppressants were not exactly mainstream either. Taking them would calm down his pre-heat sensitivity, but when his heat came, it would be more intense. Any semblance of mental control would be gone, leaving him at the mercy of his alpha. And there was the possibility that it would make his hormonal birth control less effective. He took his hand out of his pocket to undo his seatbelt. The pills would still be there if he needed them later.

Standing outside the car, Beverly pushed the lever to fold her seat over so Will could get out of the backseat. “Sorry to stuff you back there Graham,” she said without sounding sorry in the least. “Good thing your legs aren’t too long.”

“It was very cozy,” said Will, awkwardly climbing out of the car as the others watched and waited.

“Doctor Alana Bloom?” called a chubby man in a tan suit. Alana raised her hand in acknowledgment and he walked towards the group. “I’m Jerry Johnson from Records and Registration. We talked on the phone about the records of a couple of our former students.” His thick and busy hair was the same color as his suit, but it was quickly receding and leaving him with a forehead that seemed to go on forever.

“Hello Jerry,” said Alana. She introduced the rest of the group and he shook each of their hands in turn. “Here are the subpoenas you said you needed to release the records to us.” She pulled a bundle of neatly stamped and sealed papers out of her bag and handed them to him.

“Thank you, thank you.” He glanced briefly at the envelopes before tucking them into his jacket’s inner breast pocket. “You are welcome to anything we have that might help, but I’m afraid the records department is down in the basement on the other side of the school. Not the loveliest of locations, but we do our best to keep it organized. Unfortunately, we were a bit behind the times in our record keeping technology, so most of the stuff you are looking for will be in boxes rather than on the computer.”

“It can’t be much worse than the Minnesota State Police dungeon of despair,” said Beverly. “Lead on, good sir.” Jerry opened his mouth to respond to Beverly, then thought better of it and just nodded.

He led the group through Beckenshire’s enormous black wooden doors. As they walked through the hallways lined with black and white photographs of long-dead students, Jerry began an impromptu tour. “Beckenshire was first built in 1875 as a military fortress to protect the burgeoning timber industry. This location gradually lost its strategic importance, and in 1895 it was sold to a wealthy New England transplant who had built an empire in the paper business. She wanted to build a school for her children that provided them with a rigorous arts and science education, but infused with the frontier values of strength and toughness. Unfortunately, the original wooden fort was burnt to the ground by some old frontiersman angry about the sale. Of course, they just rebuilt the place in brick. Still the same layout, but much stronger. The school opened in 1900 and has been continuously in operation since.” He turned sharply to the left. “Though we have undergone a few facelifts. Beauty on the outside reflects beauty on the inside, as they say.”

“Administration” was written in blocky white letters across a set of modern glass doors with silver handles. A young secretary, her white blonde hair pulled into a severe ponytail, was staring intently at a computer screen set on a curved mahogany desk.  Jerry opened the door and Will heard furious typing, fingers ricocheting from one key to the next.

“Hello. Please sign and date the visitor log.” She didn’t look away from the screen. “Thank you.”

“Just a formality,” said Jerry hurriedly. “You don’t need to do it now, just try to get it done before you leave for the day.”

“We’ll do it now,” said Crawford, grabbing the pen and slashing signature across the sheet. The rest of the team followed suit while Jerry shifted anxiously from side to side until he continue leading them to their final destination.  

They walked past offices divided by glass panels with little plaques bequeathing titles like Communications Director, Recruitment Officer, Alumni Liaison, and Development Director. The corner office was the Headmaster’s. Its massive windows looked out across the school’s inner courtyard and past the high walls to the surrounding woods. Will imagined how powerful he must feel, sitting in his overstuffed back leather chair and staring across his little fiefdom. Like a king. Like a God.

Hannibal had to place a hand on Will's shoulder to get him moving again. 

“Here we are,” said Jerry, opening a plain brown door at the very end of the hall that looked like it would lead to a janitorial closet. Instead, it opened onto an iron spiral staircase so long that Will couldn’t see where it ended. As they descended, Jerry said, “Coming down here always gives me the creeps, like I’m walking into a nightmare.”

“Like you are walking into subconscious,” said Hannibal. “A frightening place indeed for the unprepared.”

“Jerry,” said Alana, turning over her shoulder to shoot Hannibal a warning look, “Can you tell us about what’s down here?”

His voice perked up at the specific task. “The whole basement is storage. You have to remember that when the school was built, this was still the frontier. Supplies weren’t always a sure thing, especially during the long winters when everything would freeze up. These rooms were meant to be able to hold enough food to feed the students three times over during the winter months. That’s why the ceilings are so high and it’s so cold. Of course, we don’t keep food down there anymore. Most of the rooms are filled with things that should have been thrown away, broken beds and useless trophies, but they’re still here. Maybe someone would find them useful someday.”

The staircase finally let them out onto an endless brick hallway lined with recessed doors. Jerry pulled out a long iron skeleton key and handed it to Crawford. “This is the master key to all the rooms down here. You should just need 42, 44, and 46. That’s where all the records from the 1990s through the early 2000s are kept. Unfortunately, you will have to bring anything you want back upstairs to be copied. Just give the key to Jeanette at the front desk when you’re done.” His duties complete, he turned and scampered back up the stairs.  

“Alright then,” said Crawford. “Let’s get to work. We are looking for anyone that these omegas had in common. Teachers, classmates, counselors, lunch ladies. I want their schedules, their class lists, their softball team batting order. If it exists, we need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Sorry about the long delay - August is the worst for being productive. Thanks to everyone who has read, left kudos, and commented!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Beverly find some interesting stuff hidden in the basement. Hannibal and Will try to define their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for non-con/rape applies to this chapter

Will flicked through the yellowing papers stuffed in a grey cardboard box. From the header inscription, it seemed they were mostly essays written for Mrs. Farmer’s sixth period English class between 1993 and 1994. Her red marking pen decorated each fraying page, words crossed out, exclamation points of praise, slashes of critique. Will’s eyes swept over the pages, trying to see if there was anything of value hiding in plain sight. There were a variety of subjects covered in the papers. Twelve postulations on fire in Blake.  Two takes Yeats’s roses. Eighteen accounts of water in “The Waste Land.”

A heap of broken images. The line from Eliot bobbed up to the surface of his mind and struck like a match. A flame started to grow steadily inside his brain, eating away at the boundaries between himself, the victims, and the killer. Images of broken bodies, broken dreams, broken promises teemed up inside him and threatened to overflow. Will’s breath caught in his throat. He was so close to pulling them all together, finding the pattern in the chaos. The answer waited for him like treasure at the bottom of the ocean, revealing just enough to keep him underwater long enough to drown. 

Will clutched the table to remain standing as another pre-heat cramp rolled through his abdomen. The cramps weren’t unbearable yet, only lasting for a few moments every hour or so. They were yet another sign his body was busy preparing itself for heat by producing ample lubrication and rearranging itself to increase chances of conception. Maroon eyes flicking up from behind a manila folder, but Will refused to meet them. He could feel them washing over his body, threatening to unravel his carefully built façade.

He thought again about the suppressants in his pocket. While they wouldn’t stop his heat, they would stop his body’s preparations until a day or so before the big event when it would all hit him at once. But taking them would mean no more cramps, no more visions, no more longing to be held tightly in Hannibal’s arms. At least for now.

Will steadily slid the lid back on the box, damning the words back to silence.

“Anything interesting?” asked Beverly. She stood beside Will, the contents of her box dumped out and strewn halfway across the table. The contents included pencil drawings of frogs slice open, branching taxonomies of fungi, a fawn so perfectly preserved in a jar of alcohol he appeared to just be sleeping.

“I think you got the interesting box.”

“Eh. I don’t know,” said Beverly, holding up a baby food jar containing a garter snake so tightly coiled it seemed to be eating its tail. “I think we can do better. There are a couple of photo box still down there. Kids think it’s a good idea to take photos of everything, especially horrifically awful shit. Might lead us to something.” She put the snake jar down and grabbed the ring of keys lying on the table.  “Will and I are going hunting. Anything you want us to bring back?”

“Just the evidence that cracks open the case,” said Crawford. “Don’t get distracted down there. You’re here to solve a series of vicious murders, not play around with junk.”

“Don’t worry, Will is an excellent bloodhound.”

“I wasn’t talking to Will,” said Crawford, the corners of his mouth forcefully turned down.

“I know. Will’s job is to find the evidence. My job is to find something that’ll make you crack a smile.” She grabbed Will’s hand and ran with him down the hallway as Crawford’s barking response echoed around them.

“God, it feels good to rile him up,” said Beverly as they descended the basement stairs two at a time. “You should try it sometime.”

“I do it all the time,” said Will. “But not on purpose.”

“You can’t be afraid of pissing people off, Graham. Contrary to popular opinion, being nice doesn’t get you very far. A little nastiness is necessary to get what you want.”

“I’m not sure it’d work like that for me.”

“How is the alternative working for you?”

Will didn’t respond. Beverly gave a small shake of her head and said, “Let’s take a break from evidence finding and just explore for a bit.  I know right where those boxes of photos are and we can grab them on the way back up. You game?” She walked up to a locked door near the mouth of the basement. “Unlucky thirteen.”

Beverly unlocked the door and they stepped into the darkness with their arms outstretched.  Will’s fingers brushed against a long metal chain and he pulled it down. The ancient light bulb was somehow still powerful enough to reveal row upon row of industrial metal shelves filling the room from floor to ceiling with golden trophies and plaques. 

“Somebody was an overachiever,” said Beverly as she walked down one of the rows. “Christina Reed, First Place 100 Meter Dash 1962, ’63, ’64 and ’65,” she read from the inscriptions on four identical golden chalices. “Seems like you would give these to her, not the school.”

“I broke a state record in long distance running my junior year,” said Will. It had happened by accident. Omegas had only been allowed to start competing in cross-country three years before and the field was pretty thin. When his coach had told him he beat the old record, his initial reaction was that they’d made a mistake. But he’d done it, without knowing or even trying.

“Is there a plaque with your on some high school’s wall somewhere?”

“No, a freshman decimated my time by forty-seven seconds my senior year. They took mine off and threw it away.” He’d rescued the small gold medallion stamped with a laurel wreath from the trash. It was in a box under his bed, kept safe alongside a shell from a Florida beach, his college acceptance letter, and the book of matches from his father’s coat pocket.

“Never did sports in high school,” said Beverly, picking up a three-tiered trophy and shaking it above her head in victory. “I did do science fair though and managed to get a scholarship from it.”

“I’d take a scholarship over a hunk of metal any day,” said Will. He walked towards the back wall where the largest trophies rested.

“Agreed.” Beverly came to stand beside Will. “God, look at these things. I feel like they must be compensating for something.”

“Apparently not a lack of talent in tennis,” said Will. “They were state champions from at least 1986 until 2000, and I’m guessing the more current years are on display somewhere upstairs.”

“Of course these rich little shits are great at tennis. I bet they dominate at golf too.” She turned and headed for the door. “Let’s find where they keep the shrunken heads.”

They moved down the hall, opening doors at a whim. One was filled with the discarded theater costumes from long ago productions. Another with long boxes filled with oil paintings carefully stored in wooden crates. Some were completely empty save for the rat’s nests in the corners.

“We should probably head back up,” said Will. A dull ache had begun to pulse through him and he wanted nothing so much as to be able to lay down. Beverly was casually plucking a violin. Each touch of the strings sent a plume of dust into the air.

“One more for the road,” she said, tossing the violin back onto a pile of string instruments with broken necks and missing strings.  “Your turn to pick.”  

They walked down the hall in silence. Will turn his head over his shoulder and could barely make out the stairwell leading back upstairs at the end of the hall. They had traveled deep into the bowels of the school. A damp heat had begun to swell up around them, making everything sweat. Will ran his fingertips along the brick wall and felt them glide on drops of water. A buzzing noise like electricity running across high tension wires in the desert filled his ears. The sound grew louder as they walked along the hallway until it reached a manic intensity right in front of a door with a lock but no doorknob.

Will stopped and motioned for Beverly to hand him the key. With shaking fingers, he unlocked the door, but it did not move. Hands flat against the dark boards, he pushed hard, but the door still did not budge. The buzzing noise traveled through his body and reverberated off his bones. It was an incredibly painful sensation and Will knew he had to get to the other side of the door if he was to be rid of it.

Seeing Will’s struggle, Beverly leaned her whole body into the door. With a pop like the sound of a jar’s seal being broken, the door swung open. They stumbled into the room under a cloud of paint chips and dust, gagging at the grainy taste. The buzzing stopped and Will sagged against the wall in relief.

As the overhead light steadily grew more powerful, the contents of the room slipped out of the shadows. It was easily twice the size of the other rooms they had explored.  A large old-fashioned white metal hospital bed was pushed into the corner of the room.

Will went over to the bed to get a better look. The bed was filthy with years of dirt and debris scattered on top something that once might have been a mattress, but was now disintegrating dark grey bits of fabric and light grey puffs of stuffing. A bunch of sticks lay at the head of the bed, grouped too neatly to be a random accumulation. 

Pulling on a pair of evidence gloves, Will picked up the bundle. The twigs had been bound together to create a crude imitation of a woman wearing a long skirt. Holding it up to the light, he realized the doll’s waist and neck were bound with shiny blonde braids of human hair. He dropped the poppet as if it was on fire, but letting go of the object couldn’t stop the onslaught of images from bursting into his mind:

_Fingers running through a girl’s long yellow hair before clenching tight and ripping a lock out with enough force to make her bleed._

_Laying in the dank smell of old heats, contemplating what note was needed to complete the bouquet._

_Locking a door to keep secrets shut up forever._

“Jackpot,” said Beverly, her tight voice breaking the spell Will was under. She had turned on her flashlight to get a better look at the back wall, its beam revealing photographs, drawings, newspaper clippings, bits of paper with notes scrawled across them.  

“It’s him,” said Will. The collage on the wall seemed chaotic, but it contained a hidden thread of order.  The buzzing started again and Will had to close his eyes, trying to push away the past even as it clawed its way into the present.  His inhalations became quick, short and shallow. The Magpie was waiting for him there with sharp eyes sharp and hands extended like claws. Bile rose in his throat.

“Will?” asked Beverly, reaching out to touch his cheek. “God, you’re burning up. How close is your heat?”

Will stared at a divot in the wall behind Beverly’s right shoulder. “You know?”

“I would fire myself for incompetence if I didn’t. Does Hannibal let you use suppressants?”

“He doesn’t let me do anything. And it’s my choice whether or not to use suppressants, not his,” said Will as he pulled the pills out of his pocket, leaving them tightly clenched in his palm. “What gave us away?”

“You did, just now. I’ve suspect for a while though.”  Gently unfurling his fingers, she took the pill packet and popped the suppressants out of their silver casings. She pushed them up to Will’s lips, which remained decidedly shut. “You have to take these. I need you to calm the down so we can go upstairs and get the others.” He turned his head away in refusal and Beverly sighed.

 “Will, you don’t need to worry. Everything is going to be okay. But this is big and we need to get everyone else down here. So either I carry you upstairs right now – don’t think I can’t – and the fact that you’re an omega in a relationship with that idiot Hannibal Lecter gets thrown in Crawford’s face leaving him little choice but to fire the both of you, or...”

She pressed the pills to Will’s lips again and this time they opened. The white capsules slid down Will’s throat, their chalky metallic taste lingering in his mouth. It would take another fifteen minutes or so before they kicked in, stopping his veins up with ice, 

“Hannibal’s not an idiot,” said Will. Unbidden tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, “If anyone deserves that title, it’s me.”

“I do not recall receiving an invitation to this pity party,” said Hannibal from the doorway. Beverly sprung away from Will at the alpha’s appearance, and Hannibal quickly moved into the space she had vacated.

 “It must have gotten lost in the mail,” replied Will, blinking rapidly a Hannibal placed two fingers on the side of his Will’s neck to check his pulse. Will’s heartbeat was fast and fluttering like the wings of a baby bird pushed out of the nest for the first time, falling and flying at the same time.

“Pity,” said Hannibal, sliding hand backwards to cradle Will’s head, his fingers weaving themselves into the dark curls.

“That’s why we’re having this party.” His stomach churned in anticipation of reprimand from his alpha.

Hannibal tilted his head forward as his lips moved upwards in a subtle smile. Without looking away from Will, he asked, “Beverly, would you be so kind as to retrieve the others from upstairs?”

“Of course,” she said, bolting out into the hall.

“What do you see?” said Hannibal staring straight into Will’s eyes.

“I don’t know,” said Will before Hannibal had even finished his question.

“Yes, you do.” Hannibal’s was so close now Will could feel his warm breath on his lips. The smell of Hannibal’s clean wool suit mixed with his deep amber musk pulled some of the tension out of Will’s body. The alpha’s closeness both steadied his heart and made his cells vibrate in anticipation. “You have always known, but never been able to say. Now it is time to speak.”

Hannibal’s words cracked something inside Will, letting things he had kept hidden even from himself spill out.

“I can see him – the Magpie. I see the room as it is now, with the poppets hanging from the rafters and I see the room as it was, with the omegas tied and bound on the bed. I see him sitting there, braiding the locks of hair he took, planning his next move, pleasuring himself while thinking about the omegas he killed. But it’s all jumbled together and I can’t sort out all these moments into a timeline. But that’s not the worst part,” said Will. He was now crying with closed eyes, his breaths shallow and shuddering. Hannibal stood silently, his gaze never leaving Will.

“The worst part,” said Will, the words catching in his throat, “the worst part is not that I can see him. It’s that I can feel him. He’s so close to me, Hannibal, and I don’t know what is of me and what is of him.”

“A second skin is a wondrous and fearful thing to inhabit. How does this flesh feel?”  

The feelings were right there on the surface, just waiting for Will to pluck them up to hold up to the light. Disgust at omegas who pretended to be betas or even alphas; what a spectacle they made of themselves, walking alone through a crowded street, their syrupy scent rolling off in waves. Joy at seeing an omega gagged and bound, pleading for release, promising to be good. Righteousness when squeezing an omega’s neck so tight they slid out from under this life and into the hereafter. Satisfaction after perfectly presenting their bodies as both a message and a warning. Anxious anticipation of the next kill.

“Like my world is on fire with purpose,” said Will finally.

“Hold onto that fire. Let it tether you to yourself,” said Hannibal from behind Will, making him jump. “Open your eyes. What is in front of you?”

“The place where he chooses them, where he plans their murders, where he keeps his trophies.”

“No, William,” chided Hannibal. “Stay in this moment. Describe exactly what you see.”   

“Okay.” Will exhaled and took a step forward towards the center of the room. “Okay. The room is a large rectangle. There is only one entrance or exit, the door we came through, in the middle of one of the long sides. There’s not much furniture in the room – just a bed, a sink, and a wooden school desk and chair. One wall is papered over with newspaper clippings, photos, notes and such.” Will looked up and slowly turned in a circle. “There is one light hanging in the center of the room. All along rafters, about three-dozen dolls made out of sticks are hanging. ” He finished turning to face Hannibal.

“Do you see?” asked the older man, his dark eyes compelling Will to stare into them.

“Yes,” said Will, though he was not entirely sure what he was saying yes to.   

“Good.” Hannibal drew his hand down Will’s face, closing his eyes with the soft pads of his fingertips like you would a corpse. “I want you to hold the picture of the room as it is now in your minds eye. Do you have it?” Will nodded. “And have you consumed the Magpie so fully that he has become inextricably linked to your body and soul?” Deep tremors were moving through Will, making his teeth clatter against each other, but he nodded again in three jerky repetitions.

“You are doing so well. You are almost there,” said Hannibal. “I want you to imagine a golden metronome, hanging upside down to pull back the curtain of time with each swing of the pendulum. It’s moving in time with your heart, every beat sweeps away the dust, washes away the blood, reveals his becoming.”

_I walk down the hallway alone, my strides long and confident. Powerful.  Pulling the skeleton key from my pocket, I insert it into the door with no handle, using my weight to push into the room. The door shuts tight behind me, and I am sure to lock it. I place the key on a brick ledge so high up I can barely reach, even standing on the tops of my toes._

_She is waiting for me on the bed, expectant and trusting. I have taken my time in selecting her, making sure she was meant for such an end as this, then carefully earning her trust. I know her, both by reputation and experience. The damning evidence I have carefully gathered is stacked neatly on the desk - newspaper clippings of her willful subversions, photos of her walking unashamed, letters with desire poking through the mundane. Afterwards, I will take my time pasting it onto the wall, justifying my decision with each note stuck against the wall. But, for now, she does not need to know I know. She believes she is here to bend me to her will, to capture me with her heat, before leaving without so much as a second glance._

_She smiles. I smile back._

_This is my design._

_I join her on the bed, removing her clothes and mine. For a moment, I just stare at her unmarked flesh, her dark doe eyes, her half-parted lips._

_I wrap my hands around her neck. She tries to scream, but I have taken her voice. She stares up at me and I stare down at her. White turns to red turns to black. We cry._

_I release my hands and she chokes in life-giving air. It always amazes me, the body's incredible will to survive. Before she's recovered, I bind her hands and feet, stuff a gag into her mouth. I will not kill her tonight._

_But soon, I will. Soon, I will prepare her for public and private memorial. Soon, I will begin my search for the next._

_But before all that _, I will gentle her body in my arms, giving her a peace in death she could not hold in life.__

_This is my design._

“Do you have him?” Crawford’s large frame filled the doorway.

“Yes,” said Will, his gaze drifting over the papered wall. “He’ll be connected to all the omegas. He feels like he knows his victims, but I’m not sure his victims would feel the same way about him. If we’re lucky, one of the omega’s will have reported him as a stalker. But I doubt it. He’s a powerful alpha and he would’ve made complaints like that disappear, at least officially. We’re looking for principals, CEOs, politicians, preachers. Anyone with their hands on levers of power.”

“Can you see his face?” Hannibal asked Will, though he shot a pointed glance at Crawford.

Will walked so close to the wall that everything became a blur of shapes and shadow. “It’s all I can see.”

* * *

 

It was almost midnight, but life doesn’t keep business hours.

Hannibal leaned back in his chair with a casual intensity while Will sat alone on the couch, elbow on his knees and palms pressed to his eyes. Hannibal’s politely sipped glass of wine and Will’s third whisky sat on the coffee table between them. The suppressants had replaced Will's heat visions with a manic clarity. He had hoped drinking would take the edge off, but it seemed to have just loosened his mouth.

“What happened there, what happened to all those omegas, it’s such a familiar story,” said Will. “It’s so fucking familiar.” He stopped, waiting for the alpha to correct him or question his understanding of the situation. But Hannibal remained silent, simply staring at Will and waiting for him to continue. 

Will stood up and began pacing. “Every omega is taught how important it is to be nice, how important it is to be pleasing to alphas.” Only Hannibal’s eyes moved as he tracked the younger man’s progress up and down the floorboards. “We tell ourselves it’s fine to let the wolf in, for he needs to be loved too. We silence that clear, quiet voice deep within ourselves imploring us to see the truth in his eyes and claws and teeth. Our bodies try to help us, so our soul might not be devoured.”

“I can only imagine what you must think of me,” said Hannibal as Will returned to the couch and downed his whisky.

“Oh, I know I should be very afraid of you. I knew that from the first time you touched me.” Will touched his index and pointer fingers to his temple. “You implanted something under my skin just to see what would happen.”

He leaned over and grabbed crystal decanter from the bar cart to pour himself another drink. As the alcohol splashed down, an insane though slipped past his lips, “You are a soul eater.”

“A demon in wolf’s clothing.” Hannibal picked up his wine and stared into the dark liquid as he swirled it gently in the glass. “If that is not a stern warning, I don’t know what is.”

“There, but for the grace of God, go I,” said Will. “Or something like that.”

“Something, indeed.” They were quiet for a moment, listening to the steady hum of traffic rise up from the street to Hannibal’s apartment. “Does this case remind you of something from your past?”

“Yes.” Will swirled the amber liquid around, watching the light bend and scatter across the surface. “I was reminded of the first time I shared a heat with an alpha. It’s not the same as what happened to Diana or at the school, but there is a feeling of sameness.”

“An experience of the uncanny. Freud said the most uncanny thing of all was a man being buried alive by mistake.”  

“It feels something like that. Like everyone believes something about me that’s a lie and I can’t convince them of the truth.”

“Then tell me the truth, Will.” Hannibal put down his wine and waited for Will to meet his gaze before asking, “Why haven’t you asked me to share your heat?”

Will had known the question was coming, but still couldn’t quite find the words to answer it. He hadn’t let an alpha touch him, during or outside a heat, until his junior year of college. His earliest heats were miserable, but he could withstand them alone. Like most omegas, his heats didn’t reach their full intensity until his early twenties. Besides, everyone knew Will was a good, albeit a little strange, omega good omegas wait for a bond mate for sex. Sharing a heat outside of a bond was a sure sign of being a slut. Combined with the threat of an unwanted pregnancy he would likely be forced to carry to term, it was enough to make him keep all alphas at arm’s length.

Will couldn’t remember his first time. Or rather, he remembered the roses. Vases of them on every flat surface bursting with roses the dark red of the dying’s spilled blood. Endless roses. In his eyes, in his nose, in his mouth. Or maybe it was just one rose reflected endlessly in a mirror, its scent multiplying alongside the image, gagging him on its cloying beauty.

"I know what you want." Will doesn’t remember the alpha. He remembers a heavy weight behind him, on top of him, beside him. Inside him. He remembers being told he would forget. That omegas never remember heats. That omegas never get hurt during heats. He should be enjoying this. Try a little harder. Be better. Be nicer. Be thankful. 

He remembers waking up from heat alone. Remembers laying in the stinking evidence for hours, unable to move. Finally dragging his blue body into the bathtub. Dressing in old flannels. Leaving room without turning off the lights. Driving home to his father. Rest.

“I have tried for so long to deny my body,” said Will to Hannibal. “Deny my desire. Deny my pain. Deny my truth. And now that I want something so badly it invades every corner of my mind and body, I can’t let myself take it.”

Hannibal came over to the couch and entwined his fingers with Will’s. “And I will not make you. But I do know that if you allow yourself, you will emerge on the other side forever changed.”

“And that's supposed to reassure me?”

“It’s supposed to help you see.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update! Finally! I hope you enjoyed it. We're in the home stretch now of the fic where things are going to start coming together. Thank you to everyone who's still with me, especially those who have left kudos and comments. Y'all are the best!


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